


Strange Aeons

by needleyecandy



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Lovecraftian Influences, M/M, Mystery, Prophecies, Revelations, elder gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 39,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleyecandy/pseuds/needleyecandy
Summary: After his father's death, Thor is raised by his adoptive uncle, a professor at Asenath University in the small and quiet town of Dunwich. He finds himself at loose ends until his twenty-fifth birthday, when a prophecy about him is revealed. What he finds when he goes in search of answers will change everything.





	1. The Arrival

  That is not dead which can eternal lie, 

And with strange aeons even death may die   

-Couplet heading from the codex fragment discovered by Odin Alfodr in 1987   

 

It was the sort of night where exciting things happened in films. Behind the snugly drawn curtain rain pounded against the windows; wind howled in the stoppered chimney.  It was almost nine o'clock and  Haytham sat at  his desk, thinking about how it would be enough excitement if his expected package - that  the woman on the phone had sworn was 'out for delivery' twelve hours ago - would actually show up. Sometimes when the rain grew heavy the bridge on the east side of Dunwich was closed by the stream overflowing its banks, and the trucks never seemed willing to go around. The noise was distracting and he would have put on music but for the fear that he wouldn't hear a knock. It was far easier to blame the weather than his own wandering thoughts for the fact that he'd written barely a page. The call for papers had come out two months ago and he still hadn't gotten over the habit from student days of putting off his writing until the last minute, and now that he needed to rush he found himself almost wholly  uninclined.  

A cup of tea, he decided, and perhaps a few biscuits. He'd been warned when he was twenty-nine  that his metabolism would crap out at thirty, but at thirty-one he still seemed able to satisfy his sweet tooth with impunity.  Unlike every other place he'd ever lived, the kitchen was the coldest part of the house, and he held his hands over the electric kettle as it warmed.  It put him in front of the  big picture window and he gazed at his reflection. Even with the rain streaking down the glass it showed his fine cheekbones and  strong jaw, the  dark brown skin that had somehow survived  his  graduate studies without creasing.  His eyes would have looked pure black but for the tiny flecks of gold  near the pupils. He looked more critically at his  new beard,  seeking and  once again failing to find the flaws that made his mother lament  it anew in every letter since he had sent her what he thought was a very becoming photograph.  He leaned closer, peering through the dark reflections of his eyes out into the amorphous night.  

When his tea  (a gingery herbal blend, in a nod to the hour) was finished brewing, he took it and a plate of biscuits back to his desk. The paper had not written itself in his absence.  "How tiresome of you," he told the computer.  

It was  so  tempting to call Sita. He  already knew what she would say; their relationship was just old enough to predict her words and just new enough to want to listen to her saying them anyway. _Haytham, are you calling me instead of working?_ she would  ask  as soon as she picked up.  

Perhaps _,  he would tell her._

 _You do this every time_ , she would answer, and  she  would  make it  sound like a scolding but really it would  not be. He could happily listen to her teasing him for hours. But then again, if he actually got something done before he called, she might invite him over for a work break. Goodness knows she would need one too, after all. She was revising her dissertation into a book and between that and teaching it was a miracle she had time for him at all. He put all thoughts of a phone call resolutely out of his mind and refocused on the blank document before him.  

It took another twenty minutes (in which he checked the weather forecast on the radio and did both the crossword puzzles in the day's newspaper) before he actually got any words down. He was just starting his third sentence when a knock at the door grabbed his attention and he sprang up and hurried to answer. 

Outside stood a man, dripping wet, his grayish hair hanging in pitiful lanks. His coat had been obscenely expensive a long time ago. A glass eye that might in other circumstances have looked real caught the porch light and reflected it back with an eldritch glow. 


	2. A Locked Box and a Promise Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the formatting problems, apple people! I think this chapter is pretty much fixed up. There might be a couple smushed-together words on apple products and a few double spaces on android and pc, but not too bad.

Odin stumbled inside with more haste than decorum. As he pushed past Haytham his coat was shoved back and the cause for his awkward gait was revealed: he carried a sturdy wooden box in one hand that he had evidently been trying to protect from the rain. He was coughing, and by the time he reached Haytham's desk and deposited the box, his face was nearly purple. 

"Sit down, sit down!" Haytham urged, taking Odin's arm to guide him to the chair.  

Odin coughed into a handkerchief and when he took it away there were spots of red. Haytham was determinedly old-fashioned in certain things, such as the medicinal value of a shot of whiskey. He poured it now and when Odin had drunk it his coughing eased. "You left me in the rain rather longer than seemed necessary," he scowled. 

"On the contrary, I hurried. I thought you were an overdue delivery." 

"In any case," Odin said after a harsh grunt, "I'm dying. I don't think I will live to see tomorrow." 

"What? What did you do? I am calling 911." 

"No, no. They can do nothing. And it is not what I have done but what I have not done that torments me now." 

"And what is that?" Haytham asked, frowning.  

"Did you know I have a son?" Odin asked. 

"I did not." 

"I have not seen him since the day he entered this world and his mother departed it. I have not had the heart. But now I am dying and I find myself regretting how little I have done for him." 

"Then surely a lawyer would be the one you need to speak with, not me." 

"I have already seen my lawyers. That is what brings me to you. You have always told me that your gratitude for my aid in support of your career has put you in my eternal debt. I now ask you to repay it. I cannot think of a better person to raise my boy." 

Haytham blinked. It was true that Odin Alfodr had endowed the seat he held at the university, and that he had done it specifically as a means to retain Haytham in the department when he was awarded his PhD. There had been a grand total of two open professorships in archaeology that year, and most of the adjunct positions he'd looked at paid barely over retail wages. And then Odin had declared it was unacceptable that Asenath see the back of Haytham if he did not wish to go. It was likewise true that Haytham had declared himself indebted, but he had never imagined anything like- 

"'Any way I can repay you'," Odin whispered. "I would not hold you to those words were I not so sure it is the best for my son, and for once – and now, the only –time in my life, I am determined to do right by him." 

Haytham took a deep breath and nodded. "I will take your boy." 

Odin closed his eyes. "Thank you," he breathed. "This box is for him. I have just figured it out. I have figured it all out and it is too late for me but it is not too late for him. Now take heed, for my rules must be followed exactly or his chance will be missed again." 

There was a notepad on the far side of the desk. Haytham picked it up and found a working pen in the drawer. He sat on the arm of the sofa and rested the pad on his crossed leg. "I am ready." 

"This box is to be kept safe and locked until Thor's twenty-fifth birthday. It must not be opened until the seventh of August, twenty-seventeen. Here is the key," he said, reaching into his shirt and pulling out a long chain. On a night such as this, full of storms and madness, it seemed only an ancient and rusting key would do but the one produced by Odin was striking only in its commonness. He tugged the chain over his head and gave it to Haytham as he continued. "When he reaches that age, he must open this box and pursue his destiny. If he dies before that age and leaves a child, it shall be the sworn duty of our lineage to seek the next one to whom... but you shall see when it is opened. And if he dies without issue you are to open it and act in the only manner your conscience will allow." 

"Why, what is inside-" Haytham began. He was beginning to wonder if Odin might be mad as well as ill.  

"A relic. A relic of such ancientness I cannot begin to speak. You know I conduct my own digs as well as sponsoring those of others," Odin interrupted. "When Thor was a year old, I discovered it, but the runes are written so strangely it has taken me many years to translate it and years more to interpret the words. Now I know it is a prophecy about my son but it is too late for me to act, Haytham, too late." 

_Mad,_ Haytham thought, but Odin was continuing before he could think of a reply. 

"That is all you are to know until Thor reaches the determined age. All the rest of my instructions are with my attorneys, from whom you will no doubt be hearing from shortly. See that you follow them well, for one day perhaps I will meet you again to ask for an accounting. There is no true death, my friend, only change, and Heaven-" Here he fell into another bout of coughing, this one even longer and more alarming.  

"I really must call 911," Haytham insisted. 

"No! I don't want it," Odin said. He stood, one hand on the table to share his weight. Faint mercy  that it was, he walked more easily without the box. "Goodbye, my friend. My eternal thanks and the blessing – not of a father, for I have not earned the title – the blessing of his departed mother upon your head." 

The second the door was closed Haytham was rushing for the phone. 

"Yes, a friend of mine just left my home and he was acting very strange. It would set my mind at ease if someone could check on him," he answered when the operator asked the nature of his emergency.  

They took his address, Odin's address, a description of Odin's car ("Though I don't know if he was driving," Haytham told her), and when he hung up, her promise to send a car to check things out had him feeling marginally better.  

It was still many hours before he got to sleep, for at times the heart knows things the mind does not.  


	3. Questions

In the morning Haytham answered his door to find two police officers waiting on his step. 

"Mr Buwa?" asked one. 

"Yes." 

"We're very sorry, sir. Mr Alfodr was found in his home following your call, gravely ill. He was transported to the emergency room where he was placed in intensive care, but he passed away half an hour ago." 

Haytham grasped the door frame and said nothing. 

"We'd like to ask you some questions about last night." 

His mind was a vast, giant blank. "I have to teach in two hours," he said hollowly. 

"This shouldn't take long." 

"Very well. Please come in," he invited, holding the door farther open. "I was just about to start my tea, if you would like a cup." 

"None for us, thank you, sir," they answered, following him into the kitchen.  

They waited for his teabag to be steeping in his mug before beginning their questions. 

"Can you tell us about his mood last night? Did he say anything in particular to make you worry? How was his overall demeanor? What did he tell you about his will?" 

That one, about the will, that was the first question that didn't simply ask him to repeat what he had said on the phone the night before. 

"He said he was putting his son in my custody, and that his wishes for the boy's education were with his lawyer." 

"No mention of money?" 

"None." 

"Not even for the care of the boy?" 

Haytham straightened his back. "I swore to do my best for his son. I made that promise out of friendship and I will do what is needed to fulfill it. I was not bribed," he answered stiffly. 

"We're not saying you were. It's our job to follow all possible channels, that's all," said the other one. 

"I have told you everything of our conversation. If I didn't tell you something it is because we did not discuss it." Except the box. That he had hidden away and felt no inclination to reveal it now. Likely they would have demanded to see inside and that would be a violation of his oath.

"Are you quite sure he didn't give you anything? Nothing for his son, perhaps? All possessions must be cleared by the probate court."

"I have told you everything," he said firmly. He drank the last of his tea and took a pointed look at the clock as he set down the empty cup. 

At least one of them knew when to relent. "Thank you for your time, sir. We'll be in touch if anything else comes up." 

"What do I do next?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"If the boy is now in my charge... what do I do?" 

"I'm sure the lawyers will be in touch and get things sorted out soon." 

He saw them out and was in the middle of making another cup of tea to go in his travel mug for shower-drinking when his phone rang. He had a brief flash of hope that it might be Sita even though he knew this was too early for her. The officer turned out to be right. It was a lawyer. 

"Good morning. This is Rosette Peterson from Peterson, Sharpe, and Jenkins. Am I speaking with Mr. Haytham Buwa?" 

"You are." 

"Our firm has served the Alfodr family for three generations. The police informed me that you are aware of Mr Alfodr's passing?" 

"I am. Look, I'm sorry, Ms..." 

"Peterson." 

"I have less than an hour before I must teach and I haven't even begun to ready myself. I do want to hear what you have to say, but perhaps I might call you this afternoon?" 

"Would it work if I came up to meet with you? There's a lot of paperwork to go over, and several things in need of your signature." 

"Yes, of course." 

"Thank you very much. It's a terrible tragedy, and all of us here are keeping our focus on seeing that his wishes be carried out fully and quickly." 

He gave her directions to his office and hurried to the shower. He was already dripping wet before he realized he'd forgotten his tea. 

 

He was far from his best in class that day, but this was a small section with engaged students, so once he got the discussion going, they largely carried it for him. He'd had just enough time before it started to phone Sita in her office and ask her if she could meet for lunch. He really didn't like the thought of having to tell his new maybe-girlfriend that he was about to become a father but it also seemed like the sort of thing that was better done sooner than later.  

He straightened his back before phoning her, as though to remind himself that he was confident and assured and not at all nervous. She didn't answer. He took a deep breath and left a message.  

"Hello, Sita. I hope you are having an enjoyable morning. I was wondering if you might be able to meet me for lunch today. Perhaps at noon at the Golden Grill? I must go teach now, but I will check my messages as soon as my class is over. Goodbye," he finished politely.  

When his class was over he hastened back and was pleased to see the flashing red light on his machine. He pressed _play_ and there was her voice, low and lyrically accented.  

"Hello, Haytham. I would be very pleased to have lunch with you. I will try to be there at noon, but don't worry if I am a few minutes late." 

They rarely had time to meet during the middle of the work day, and even dreading the upcoming conversation he felt a flurry in his stomach more suited to a lovesick boy and somehow he didn't mind at all.  

He was there waiting when she arrived, the steam from her latte set to dancing by the flurry of her coat.  

"Thank you for meeting me," he said, standing.  

"It's always nice to see you," she answered. 

"I put in our food order about ten minutes ago. I know you don't have much time. I got you the TLT with chips?"  

Her voice had a warm current of laughter when she told him, "You needn't look worried. That's my favorite thing here. It was very thoughtful of you." 

That was good. Thoughtful was good. Thoughtful was the sort of man she maybe wouldn't want to leave just because everything was about to change. 

"The strangest thing happened to me last night," he began. "I've spoken of Odin Alfodr before, haven't I?" 

"The one who endowed your position? I should think so." 

"He came to see me and said he was dying, and he... he asked me to take his son. To become his guardian." 

Her eyes grew worried. "He must be very ill, poor man. But still, you...?" 

"That was my thought as well, but he said he could think of no one better to entrust with his little boy." 

"I can understand that," she said, nodding. "But surely he's not so very old. What do his doctors say?" 

"I don't know what they said, but it doesn't matter now. The police came to my house this morning to inform me that he died just a few hours after he left me. His lawyer is driving up with custody paperwork this afternoon." 

He couldn't read her face. "What are you thinking? Please tell me what you think." 

She glanced away and took a sip of coffee.


	4. Patience

"Sita, please tell me what you think," Haytham said again.

She took another sip of coffee, playing for time, before looking up at him. It was impossible not to think about how this would impact the two of them. Though it was new, she liked him very much. By far the most of any man she had met in years. That, in turn, gave her a wave of guilt that she was thinking about herself and their budding relationship when a child had just been orphaned.

"I think it is mad," she told him flatly. "He was mad to ask and you were mad to accept. What do you know about raising a child?"

"I know that I was raised by loving parents who always supported me and who raised me into a happy and successful man, and that this boy could do far worse than to be raised by one who seeks to be like them."

"That was many years ago. The world is different now. Just look at the internet. Gods only know what the outcome of that will be," she pointed out. "Not to mention an American town in Massachusetts is a far cry from a village in Ghana."

"Most of that you could say to any parent today," he argued. "And wherever we live, our values are the same. So are you saying you think I wrong to agree?"

"No," she admitted. "Everything you said is true. The boy could do far worse than a man like you, and other than his own family I don't know how he could do better. But I am still saying it is mad, as well."

"Yes. You are right," he sighed.

She nudged his cup. "Your drink will get cold."

Their food arrived and gave some excuse for the silence that fell.

"I know it is too soon to be sure, but what do you think this might mean for us?" he asked.

"What do _you_ think?" she asked. He was the one changing things. It was only fair that he be the first to commit to a statement.

"I think this will change my life more than I can possibly imagine, and if you want to end things between us I will respect that decision. But I really hope that you won't."

"I would rather not. Why don't we wait and see how things go."

He smiled. "That sounds good to me as well. We will wait and see how things go."

She had to rush to work, jogging one block and then walking two, dodging the puddles from last night's storm, so as to not be out of breath when she arrived back. It wasn't so bad in small seminars, but in this huge lecture hall the microphone caught everything and it always made her feel terribly self-conscious. It was pressure enough being both the only woman and the only person of color (as she was now known since moving to the US, as though she was the one who had changed, rather than her surroundings) in the history department, and there was an ever-present awareness in the back of her mind that she was constantly being expected to represent more than just herself, unfair as it was. Her graduate work in applying computational humanities to military history had made her the perfect fit for this position and at her first holiday party a drunken colleague had let slip the fact that she had been the top choice of not only the search committee but every member of the department. That knowledge had brought some ease, but the fact remained.

It was a not insignificant part of what she found appealing about Haytham, as well. Her college and his small university were on opposite sides of the river and for all the rivalry between the student bodies, the faculties were friendly, and there was a single 'faculty of color' group shared by both. They were the only two members to have immigrated to the US within the last decade and they had bonded over drinks and laughter at their shared experiences. She liked his intellectual drive, he admired her technological expertise. He respected her desire that they move slowly – glacially, by American standards – and despite her general aversion to talking on the phone she genuinely enjoyed indulging his desire for long, wandering calls.

She reached the podium with twenty seconds to spare, had her notes set out with ten, and began her lecture as perfectly on the dot as always. Seminars were much more fun to teach, which was by far the bigger draw than was the desire to avoid that stupid microphone, but today, at least, she was grateful that all she had to do was give a lecture that she'd written two terms ago. There was no way trying to lead a conversation - or participating in any conversation at all other than a continuation of the one held over lunch – would have worked. As it was, it took every ounce of discipline to stay focused on what she was saying when her mind kept dancing across the river to Haytham's office, where he was even now meeting with the attorney.

The students always moved sluggishly down the stairs at the end of this class. The department had spent years arguing with the registrar against putting them in such a dimly lit and over-heated room immediately after lunch, but they were told the demand was high and they could have the space then or not at all, and as Research Methods was a requirement for all prospective majors they couldn't very well refuse.

"Dr. Johar?"

Ah, the first one. So early in the term, too. This one was on top of things. "Yes, Melanie?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course. Let's go to my office."

They made light talk as they crossed the commons, agreeing that the weather was getting dreary much earlier than usual this year, laughing about universally terrible cafeteria food.

Melanie looked anxious as she sat down in Sita's guest chair. "I'm going to major in history, and I wondered... I mean, I hoped that you'd, maybe, be my advisor? I'm really interested in your work looking at relationships between climatic events and how they affected military stuff, and so, um... yeah."

Sita was careful to keep her smile warm rather than amused. Melanie was nervous enough without her professor being entertained by it, even though her amusement was solely from the fact that the ones with least reason to be nervous always seemed to be the most. "I would be delighted to serve as your advisor. Do you have the paperwork with you?"

Melanie's face fell. "I don't. I can go get it and come back."

"No problem. I can print it out. This time of year I keep that file open."

"Thanks," Melanie sighed.

She signed it and saw Melanie off to the office and was still smiling when her phone rang. It had to be Haytham. Curious as she was, it was going to be even harder to focus once she heard what he had to say. She muted her machine and let it run.


	5. Haytham's News

Sita left her phone on silent until her office hours were ending, well aware that once she read or heard anything from Haytham it was all over for the day. As long as she kept herself in ignorance it was all simply potential, and that was something she could ignore well enough to counsel students on their papers.

"Yes, I lowered your grade by one letter for not spellchecking before you turned it in, just as the syllabus says, as we went over the first day of class," she explained for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"But we turn our papers in electronically, it's no more work for you to do it than it is to mark us down for not," wheedled the student before her. That at least offered some novelty. Usually they said they'd simply forgotten, or argued that as long as she understood what they meant that ought to be good enough.

"What it does is save me the bother of underlining your mistakes," she told him.

"Please, Dr Johar," he said, softening, as though she wouldn't recognize the abrupt change in approach for what it was. "If I don't do well enough in this class I'll get dropped from the dean's list."

She picked up his paper and looked at it. "To be honest with you, Randolph, I have to question whether someone who spells Genghis with a zed belongs on the dean's list."

"Zed?"

"Zeeeee," she said, dragging it out. "The end of the alphabet. Just like how now is the end of my office hours, and I have an appointment."

He sighed and stood up. "Okay. Thanks anyway."

"Randolph," she said. He paused in the doorway and turned back. "Believe it or not, I really prefer to give A's. But I need you to earn it. You have to write one essay. I must read fifty. Those papers that are worth an A are _very_ welcome to me.”

The instant the door shut behind him she was pressing play. Haytham's voice was deep and rich, a pleasure to listen to even when he was saying things as mundane as, "Hello, Sita. I hope you are having a pleasant afternoon. The lawyer has just left to drive back to New York. It was a good meeting, I think."

She went to the department office and made a cup of tea with shaky hands before calling him back. He answered as though he'd been waiting for her call.

"The meeting was good?" she said by way of greeting.

"It was. I still can't fully believe that it's real, but... well, for one thing, I've got some time to let it all sink in."

"How is that?"

"At the moment he lives in an apartment in New York with his nanny. She has family in the city and doesn't want to leave, and Odin's plan was for him to stay with her until he turned six and then go to boarding school, so the lawyer and I agreed that it would be best for him to remain there with her for now, and make the decision closer to his birthday. That way he's not being uprooted to live with someone he's never met and then put in day care two days later."

Her heart gave a little flip when he said _boarding school._ "And it's near enough you can go on the weekends and get to know him."

"Exactly. He never knew his father, so he doesn't feel the loss, but it seemed kindest to take things slowly."

"Though, Haytham... those things don't sound cheap."

"With the amount of money attached to his care, that is not an issue," he answered, sounding uncomfortable.

"Ah. I see."

"Yes. If I bring him here, of course, I will raise him sensibly, the only way I know, but this cost will take hardly a drop from the bucket."

That was good to know. The day-to-day expenses of a child might not be so much – though she remembered, vividly, how rapidly she and her siblings had gone through clothing as they grew – but the thought of Haytham having to pay for this boy’s education was somewhat daunting.

"You'll have time to fix up a room suited to a child for him to use in the summers. Finally clean out that thing you call a study," she teased.

"And to read some parenting books," he agreed with a chuckle.

And he wouldn't be coming until next summer. That gave them nearly eight months to see where they stood before Thor showed up to change Haytham’s – and possibly Sita’s – life. “In the meantime, would you like to join me at the Jarmusch festival at the Roxy?”

“I’m getting the train down to meet Thor tomorrow,” he said regretfully. “But if I go early enough, I should be back in time to catch Night on Earth.”

“That’s my favorite,” she told him.

The warmth in his voice was palpable as he answered. “I know. I remember.”


	6. Introductions

Thor had a vague sensation that he was supposed to feel sad when he was told that his father had died. He got the feeling from how Anneke's hands felt when she picked him up to put him on her lap, the extra gentleness in her voice as she told him. He managed to look sorrowful and she rubbed his back and promised to make his favorite dessert that evening. It seemed like a worthwhile trade. Death itself was little more than a word, and the death of someone he'd never known did not seem like it would affect him at all. It was only sometime later that he realized what it meant.

He stabbed his spoon into his half-eaten bowl of pudding as though it was to blame. "This means I won't get so many presents at Christmas, now, doesn't it."

"Not necessarily, darling," she consoled.

"Oh. Okay," he said. He picked up his spoon and was almost done eating before remembering that he was supposed to be looking sad.

 

The people came a few days later. Anneke told him at breakfast that they would have guests at lunch and she hoped he would be on his good manners.

"Who are they?"

"One is your father's lawyer, and the other is someone he chose to do his job looking after you if anything happened to him."

"The one who will send me presents?"

She smiled. "I expect so."

When they were done eating she gave him a bath with extra bubbles. He picked out his red corduroy pants and the shirt with pictures of saws and hammers and all kinds of things for building. She dressed him and then it was time to wait.

Thomasina was there that day, too. She was a better cook than Anneke but less likely to make his favorite desserts so their schedule of trading off which days they cooked worked well for him. Once Thor was clean and dressed he pushed through the swinging kitchen door to watch her finish. She also looked after him on Anneke's days off and though he didn't see her as much he was fond. "What's for lunch?" he wanted to know. "It smells good."

"Macaroni and cheese and apple crisp. The weather is so gray and one of your guests has a long trip to get here. I wanted to make something that sticks to your ribs," she said, bending down and tickling his.

They showed up soon after that. There was a woman who wore a suit like all the people he watched out the window scurrying to work on weekday mornings even though today was Sunday, and a man wearing dark blue jeans and a white shirt with gold buttons. They smiled at him and said hello.

He greeted them and watched them curiously while they shook hands with Anneke and Thomasina. The lady seemed to know them already but when Anneke said, "Why don't we all get acquainted over lunch?" she agreed.

Over salad (which made Thor cast a reproachful look at Thomasina. She hadn't warned him it would be there) he learned that the woman was his father's lawyer. "Your father left what's called a will, where he gives the rules for what he wants for your future and what should happen with his money," she explained. "It's my job to make sure the rules get followed."

"And who are you?" Thor asked the man, who so far had said little more than his name. When he smiled he seemed nice, though, and Thor liked his voice. He spoke with an accent, like Anneke but different.

"I was a friend of your father's. He helped me very much when I was starting my career."

"Your father had a very high opinion of Mr. Buwa. That's why we're here today, Thor," said Ms. Peterson. "We need to talk about your future."

"I'm going to stay here with Anneke," he told them.

“That’s not what your father wanted for you,” Anneke said gently.

Ms. Peterson nodded. “He had planned for you to remain here with her until you turned six, and then you were to attend the same boarding school he went to as a boy.”

“What’s a boarding school?” Thor asked, suspicious.

“It’s a school where you live.”

“But I live here.”

“The law says we have to do what he wanted. But he also transferred your guardianship to Mr. Buwa, along with the instructions to raise you as he sees fit.”

“So you can decide that I stay here,” Thor said, turning to him.

That was when Anneke spoke again. “Thor, part of the agreement I made with your father was that I would look after you for six years, and at the end of it, my education would be completely funded. It’s very expensive to attend college, and my parents don’t have much money to help me. It was the sort of opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

The betrayal hurt like death was supposed to. “”You don’t want to stay with me?” he asked. He was determined to be brave and not cry, but it was hard.

“We’ll always be friends, I promise. But I have my own dreams, sweetheart, and I can’t put them off until you’re a grownup.” She looked like she was trying not to cry, too, and he felt a vindictive stab of pleasure.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll stay here until you turned six, just as your father wished,” said Mr. Buwa. “I will come visit you on the weekends so we can get to know one another, and one day we will go visit the boarding school, and when it is time, you will decide whether you wish to go there, or whether you want to come live with me.”

“It’s very generous of Mr. Buwa,” said Ms. Peterson.

“Remember your manners, Thor. What do you say?” Anneke prompted.

“No, it’s alright,” Mr. Buwa interrupted. “I’m sure you’re too overwhelmed to feel very grateful right now. I think we must start by being honest with each other.”

Thor was right in thinking that he seemed nice. He didn’t thank Mr. Buwa for the offer of taking him in, but he did give him a smile for saying he didn’t have to say it.


	7. A Friend

 

Haytham went to New York nearly every weekend in the months that followed. He drove to Innsmouth to catch the 6 a.m. train to the city and took the 4:04 train back home. The day he went was all that varied, and that was based on when he and Sita went on dates. When they had something to do on Friday night, he would go on Sunday to see Thor. When they had something on Saturday night, he would go on Saturday, so that he wouldn't need to get up early the next morning.

"But then you have a terrifically long day," Sita teased.

"But I also get Sunday to rest," he'd answer. "And I need one rest day to sleep and prepare for the next week of classes."

It was not the ideal arrangement for a new relationship, perhaps, but then again, few are. And she liked him. The more she knew of him, the more she liked him, and that made his schedule a much smaller matter than it would be were he a different man. Besides which there was the simple fact that she was far too busy to devote much time to dating. She had no illusions about the fact that she was one of the lucky ones; she had too many friends suffering through the life of an adjunct not to be grateful for where she was. That knowledge didn't magically turn itself into publications and committee memberships and offices, though. More than one date night consisted of the two of them going to a cafe or ordering in and then focusing on their laptops rather than each other. And she had to fit him into the life she already had before she met him.

 

"How's the paper going?" Keziah asked when Sita picked up the phone. It was the second time Haytham had gone to spend the day with Thor and she was in her living room, trying to finish an article and not think about the child who was going to have such an impact on her life. 

Sita leaned back in her chair, sighing as she looked out the window. "It's snowing."

"I have _no_ idea what that means, hun. Your words are coming like snow?"

"Outside. I just noticed."

"It's been snowing for hours. Is that a good sign? You were working so hard you blocked out the world and now you're basically done?"

"Yes to the first half," Sita answered with a rueful chuckle. "What's up?"

"Wondering if you're free for a game and dinner."

"In a couple hours? I'd love to, but I need to get a little further along with this before I stop."

"Sure. Just call me when you're free. Think about what you want to eat."

"I will. Talk to you soon."

Sita was smiling when she hung up the phone. Keziah was the first friend she had made in town, and was still by far the closest. Both of them had active enough dating lives, but it was Sita who showed up with tissues and ice cream when a windstorm toppled a tree right across the Thunderbird that Keziah had been so lovingly restoring, and it was Keziah who dragged Sita away from the computer with reminders that people needed more than one thing in their lives.

They’d met at the garage when Sita took her car in for repair and discovered her new mechanic was a woman. They'd first bonded over shared experiences of working in male-dominated fields but it hadn't taken long at all to discover they shared a love for badminton. They matched as well on the court as off and tried to get in a couple hours together every week.

The Y hadn’t been renovated in years, which meant they still had the number of courts from back when the sport was more popular. In the almost-two-years they’d been playing, there had been a wait only once. By eight they were hopping into the showers to wash off a well-earned layer of sweat.

“You know what you want to eat?” Keziah asked as she lathered up her hair.

“Something big,” Sita answered. “We need it after that.”

“Jason’s out on nineteen just added a homemade veggie burger to their menu. I hear it’s good.”

“Is it good and big?”

“Everything at Jason’s is big. You’ve seen the shakes.”

“Oooh, I think I’ll get a shake too.”

“And a cement mixer full of fries.”

“That goes without saying,” Sita answered, but Keziah was already laughing.

The burgers were huge, delicious, and the sort of messy where once it’s picked up it doesn’t get put down again for fear it would fall apart. Their conversation restarted once they turned to the bucket of fries sitting between them.

“…it’s a fifty-seven, which is just the ultimate year for cars, and with the condition it’s in it’s really cheap, and it should keep me busy for years,” Keziah was saying.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Everything but the color, but I can paint it.”

“What color is it?”

Keziah grimaced and pulled out her wallet. “Just a sec. I have a pic.”

Sita took a long drink of shake as Keziah found the photo. She winced when she saw it. “Ouch. Who did that?”

“I don’t know, but it can only be attributed to malice.”

“Mmm,” Sita agreed, nodding. "It looks... medicinal."

She got home to find an envelope tucked in her door. It held a polaroid photo of a beaming Haytham and a cheerfully ruddy little boy standing in front of a dinosaur skeleton. “Thank heaven he likes museums. I hope you had a good day, too,” it said on the back.

 

 


	8. Decision Time

Haytham's first visit boded well for the future, he thought. Thor was a bold, rough-and-tumble little boy but he also seemed capable of sitting and playing quietly. He had evidently taken a liking to Haytham as well; after lunch was done that first day he had taken hold of Haytham's hand and led him to the living room to play with his Lincoln Logs. He was glad of it, and equally glad to let Thor continue to take the lead in their relationship.

Thor's favorite thing in the world was learning about dinosaurs and so for Christmas Haytham bought him a kit designed to replicate an excavation, with a plastic stegosaurus skeleton all jumbled up in a block of compacted dirt. The box said ages eight to fifteen but he was optimistic that with some help, Thor would be fine. Thor himself seemed to have no doubts.

"I think the kitchen floor would be best, to keep the dirt off the carpets," Haytham said hastily as Thor began to rip at the plastic.

"Can we do it together?"

"Of course we can," Haytham assured him. "But we must wait for the kitchen to be empty, so we're not in anyone's way."

Anneke cast him a grateful smile. "Remember I'm leaving at one to spend the afternoon with my family. You and Uncle Haytham could work on it after your nap."

Thor had recently announced that he no longer needed naps and Anneke had said, just as firmly, that he did. It had been the first time Haytham had been asked to make a decision about Thor's care. He had no doubt that Anneke knew better than Thor but he was likewise reluctant to cause a rift. He had frantically rummaged through his memory for the age he himself had stopped. There had been quiet time after lunch for his first year of school, each child settling down on their little mats. His second year there had not.

"When you are six. That is when you will not need them anymore," he said with far more confidence than he felt. Thor had not taken it as well as he had hoped, but he didn't seem to hold a grudge.

Christmas afternoon was the first time they had been alone together in the apartment. Anneke left her parents' number, Thomasina's number, the pediatrician's number, a reminder of the address in case he needed to call 911, and an assurance that he wouldn't need any of them. She put Thor down for his nap and when Thor woke they were alone.

They spent the afternoon sitting on the kitchen floor and playing in the dirt. "This is a little bit like what I do for my work sometimes," Haytham said. "I dig up things people made, more than bones, but the work is much alike."

"These aren't real bones, Uncle Haytham. People made these, too," Thor explained.

"You're right," Haytham said, laughing. "Do you like it anyway?"

Thor nodded. "It's fun."

Haytham warmed up leftovers for their dinner and by the time Anneke returned, he felt like maybe he could do this.

 

The natural history museum was always an easy choice for their time together. Thor liked it, and Haytham had some familiarity with paleontology and, to a lesser extent, biology, so that when Thor peppered him with questions he felt reasonably confident in his answers.

"The dinos are my favorite," Thor always said as they left.

"Mine, too," Haytham smiled. "Now let's get you all bundled up before we go outside."

Thor seemed to get closer to him with every visit until his sixth birthday drew near, at which point he began to cling to Anneke while claiming he didn't want to see Haytham at all.

"I don't know what to do," Haytham lamented to Sita after his second failed visit. "He's angry and frightened and he has every right to be."

"Then tell him that. Let him know you take his feelings seriously. He'll come to see it's not you he's mad at."

And so it went, Haytham sitting outside Thor's room and talking to a closed door, until the time came to meet with the lawyer once again.

When Haytham had first made the offer of allowing Thor to choose where he might go, the chance he might pick boarding school had been a hope buried deep in the back of his mind but now, as they all sat down around the table once again, each in the same exact places as before, he knew what he wanted. He had been working on his house for months, turning his study into another bedroom, filling it with child-sized furniture, searching out things that had never looked dangerous before. His square kitchen table was replaced by a round one because Thor had a tendency to run first and look later, and Haytham didn't want to know what a wooden corner could do to such a small head. He had already found out all about the best after-school care and learned all Thor's favorite recipes. He wanted to do everything right, and he didn't want Thor to choose boarding school.

Thor put on a bold face but he had also brought his bear to the meeting. He clenched its little paw in his own little fist as Ms. Peterson reminded him, unnecessarily, of who she was.

"So, Thor, just as Mr. Buwa promised, you may choose where you wish to go."

He sat in stony silence. Anneke put a hand on his shoulder, meant to comfort, but he jerked away.

"It's okay if you want a few more minutes to think, sweetheart," Anneke said. Her eyes had a wet gleam that she did not let creep into her voice.

"Uncle Haytham," he whispered. "I'll go live with Uncle Haytham."


	9. Moving

Thor had visited Uncle Haytham's house once but going there to live was different. Anneke agreed to stay for the first week to help him get settled in and the three of them spent those too-short days together, going for walks, playing games, unpacking the boxes that had arrived in the rattly moving truck the morning after they did. It was the first time he had ever slept in another room and while he liked his uncle he was glad to have her there when he woke from his bad dreams.

"I don't remember him ever having them before. I can't help worrying. It's such a difficult transition for him," he overheard Anneke saying one morning as she and Uncle Haytham bustled about in the kitchen. Thor had recently discovered how to get himself out of his booster seat and applied the new skill almost entirely to listening at doors. It was fair, he thought; after all, he was all people seemed to talk about.

"I had nightmares when I first moved to the U.S., and I wanted to come," he had answered. "It takes time."

She sighed. "I just feel so guilty for leaving him. I wish his father were still alive so I could slap him. I always did my best, but it should never have been me at all."

Thor leaned closer. His father was almost never mentioned in his presence and he was eager to hear more about this man who should have been slapped.

"I didn't know about Thor's existence until the night Odin died. I would have tried to- ah, the water. Would you prefer Lady Grey or the breakfast blend?"

That – the water being poured over the tea bags – was his signal to get back into his seat and pretend to be bored. "What's for breakfast?" he asked when they appeared with their mugs.

"My famous sticky buns," said Uncle Haytham like it was a big announcement.

Thor giggled. "Your buns?"

"Sweet bread," Uncle Haytham told him, pretending to sound scolding.

"Where are they?"

"In the oven. They take time to cook, so they are a special treat for once in a while. Though perhaps you can learn how to help me make them, and then we will have them more often."

"Okay."

Uncle Haytham tried to cheer him the morning Anneke left. He stood in Thor's doorway, sounding like he was trying to hide how desperate he was to make Thor stop crying. "I know you are sad she is leaving, but her classes begin next week. And we will talk. We will talk to her on the telephone."

Thor just cried and soon Anneke was sitting on the floor, holding his hand and repeating the promise that they would talk on the phone. And then Uncle Haytham was back, telling them in a gentle voice that the food was ready, and once they ate it was time to take her to the train station. She sat in the back seat with him and that was good when they were going, but once they got back in the car to go home it made it feel even more empty.

 

He didn't eat for the whole rest of the day. They couldn't let him die and so if only he held out long enough she would have to come back and put things back to normal. Uncle Haytham looked so sad and Thor felt sorry for him because it wasn't his fault but it couldn't be helped.

The next morning when Uncle Haytham came to wake him up, he was holding a tray of food and carrying the cordless phone tucked into his elbow. "Anneke is on the line. Why don't we put it on speaker and all have breakfast together," he suggested.

That was when it really hit. She was on the phone because she wasn't coming back for him and his choices were this or nothing at all. "Okay," he said.

The conversation was mostly Anneke talking to him and then Uncle Haytham answering her questions when Thor said nothing. Once she was done eating, she took him on a talking tour of her new apartment, walking around from room to room and describing each one in turn.

"I have a break at the end of the term, and we'll have a visit then, okay? Maybe I can come up there and you can show me all the fun things you've found to do. I bet they'll be done building the new playground in the park near your house by then."

Thor nodded. "Okay."

"I need to leave for class now, okay, buddy? But we'll have breakfast together again soon."

"When?" he demanded.

"Haytham, my Tuesday-Thursday class doesn't start until eleven. Would those days work for you?"

"They would. Thank you."

"Of course. We'll have breakfast again on Tuesday, okay, Thor? That's five days from now. I promise."

He sniffled. "Okay." It wasn't much. It wasn't what he wanted. After that he tried his best to clean his plate and be quiet and good. He still didn't understand what he'd done to make Anneke leave him but he had to make sure Uncle Haytham didn't leave him too.


	10. Adjusting

In the following days Thor seemed like a shell of the child Haytham had grown to love. It was clear why he was behaving as he was, though he lacked the words to express himself when Haytham tried to talk to him about it. He had read everything he could find on how to support newly adopted children and he knew this was normal but it was small comfort when looking at Thor's studiously blank face.

It didn't help that Haytham was largely cut off from his friends. He didn't want to put Thor in day care or the charge of a sitter until things had settled down, but he likewise didn't want to add more change, in the form of introducing new people, until more time had passed. The university offered excellent leave for new parents and his tenure clock was put on hold, allowing him the time and freedom to do what was best for their new family, but he could not help feeling isolated. The lawyer had pointed out that Odin had bequeathed enough money directly to Haytham that he never needed to work again, but the thought of abandoning his career, even without considering all the long years he had invested in it, was unthinkable. Now just these first few stressful weeks were enough to confirm that he had made the right choice. When it was time for him to return to work, he would go gladly.

He did talk to others in the evenings after Thor had been put to bed with lots of stories and hugs and a kiss on his forehead before Haytham turned out the light. Not while Thor was _in_ bed, though - the stairs in his old house were creaky and the boy didn't seem to realize that when he snuck downstairs to eavesdrop, Haytham knew he was there. He took full advantage.

"Thor loves dinosaurs. Next summer I am going to take him to Dinosaur National Monument so he can see the fossils in situ and watch the excavations. But I must warn you, this is to be a surprise, so make sure you don't let it slip when you meet him," he said to Howard one evening.

"I hope I will not tire you with questions. As your daughter is one year older than Thor I will want to hear your thoughts on schools and teachers each year as he grows up. You won't mind, will you?" he asked Lavinia.

"Thor is a wonderful child," he told Sita. "I am already planning a trip to Norway for him to see where I have worked. It will be a long trip for him, but I am confident he can handle it."

"I cannot believe your son is already old enough for college! I am grateful that I have so many years to spend with Thor before I must think about something like that," he said to Phillip.

Each time, after he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone, he heard the creak of the stairs as Thor went back to bed and he smiled.

The first weeks, they spent their time together not necessarily alone, but not involving others. They went to the supermarket and the park, and one day when they woke to find a heat wave had moved in overnight they went to the toy store and bought an inflatable pool for the backyard.

Haytham missed Sita. He told her in emails so Thor would not hear and blame himself. She missed him too, she said. _Though you chose your timing well, this presentation I'm giving at the end of the month is taking every waking minute._

Each day Thor seemed a little more himself. Hearing Haytham telling others about his long-term plans seemed to help him in a way that being told directly didn't manage to do, and that, paired with his natural resilience and the fact that Anneke kept every one of her promises about long-distance breakfast calls, his heartache began to ease.

Anneke came to visit at the end of her summer term, just as she had promised, and though Thor cried when she left, this time he seemed to trust that it was not forever.

"I would like to invite my friend over for dinner tomorrow evening," Haytham told Thor – cautiously – a few days after that. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to help me plan the menu?"

And so it was that the first time in weeks that he saw Sita was over a meal of pigs-in-blankets, macaroni and cheese, and chocolate chip pancakes, with glasses of pineapple-orange juice. Thor was shy with her until he discovered her profession, at which time he began to regale her with descriptions of his GI Joe collection and the moment they had finished eating he ran upstairs and came trotting back down with his toy box. She was warm and kind as she played with him and as Haytham watched them together he finally began to think everything would work out.

"So what do you think?" he asked her after Thor had been put to bed and, for once, stayed there. "Can you do this? I need to know, because I must put him first now and I cannot allow him to grow attached only to see him hurt again."

"What have you told him?"

"That you are my friend."

She nodded slowly. "For now, I think that is best. I have five more years before my life will even begin to calm down, and that's trusting I am granted tenure. He is a sweet child, and I don't want him hurt if things don't work out. Can we do that?"

It was not quite the answer he had hoped for, but it was sensible, and her good sense was part of why he liked her. "Yes. We can do that."

Almost before they knew it, it was the middle of September and time for Thor to go to school.


	11. Getting Settled

Thor liked school. He had been scared to go at first but he liked Mr. West, his teacher, and he liked the other kids and even the shy ones seemed to like him back. Uncle Haytham had a break from work and so he promised Thor that every day until Christmas break he would be there waiting to meet Thor when the bell rang. He was never late and he never forgot and each time Thor scanned the crowd for him he was a little less scared and a little more excited. He wasn't hard to find, either. It made people curious. 

"Who's that man who picks you up, Thor?" asked Walter over some coloring.  

"He's my uncle." 

"Is your mom at work?" 

"Huh-uh. She's dead," Thor answered, filling in his stegosaurus.  

"Are you sad?"

"No, I didn't know her."

"Oh. Why is your uncle black if you aren't?" 

Thor shrugged. "He just is." 

People seemed to accept that and once he'd been through it with everyone they moved on to more interesting things, like what was in the closed wing of the school the kids weren't allowed into. On the playground they'd take turns climbing each others' shoulders, trying to peer in through the grimy windows, but there was never enough light to see anything more than strange shadows inside.

Thor started being invited to friends' homes to play after school, their parents driving him home before dinner. Uncle Haytham always insisted on meeting their parents first which was kind of embarrassing even though other people's parents did it too. Thor had his friends over sometimes, as well, or they would go to the park and Uncle Haytham would sit on a bench next to the playground and work on his laptop while they played.  

Sleepovers followed, which meant getting to pick out his own sleeping bag, which was exciting because most kids had to use their parents' bags or leftovers from older brothers and sisters. He wanted to get the dinosaur one from Toys-R-Us that he saw on tv but his uncle insisted on going to the camping store instead. ("You're going to grow faster than you think. There's no sense wasting money on a bag you'll outgrow in a year or two." The ones at the camping store cost far more, which Thor didn't hesitate to point out, but his uncle claimed that better quality things lasted longer. "Remember the book Mr. West read about the environment?" After that Thor didn't argue, and when he unrolled his bag for his first sleepover he found dino patches sewn on all over it. The sewing wasn't that good but somehow Thor didn't care at all.) 

"You're so lucky to be the only one," said Will after the forty-five-millionth toddler invasion.  

Thor picked at a thread on his bag. "I don't know. I always kind of wanted a little brother." 

"My little sister's okay," offered Henry.  

"She's a baby. Watch out. When she starts walking, it's all over," Will warned. 

"What's that smell?" Thor asked, his nose twitching.

Will perked up his head and sniffed the air. "Stuff my mom burns. She says she likes the smell."

"It's weird."

"Grown-ups are weird sometimes."

"Yeah."

 

Once Thor was in school there wasn't time for phone-breakfasts with Anneke and so instead they would have phone-dinner together one night a week and then, as he spent more time with other kids, it became every two weeks or more, and by the time Uncle Haytham was bundling him up to take the train to New York to visit her for Christmas Eve, it had been almost a month. He had been so excited that he had barely slept all night and almost the moment they took their seats he fell asleep in his uncle's lap. He didn't wake up until they were there and she was waiting at the coffeeshop by the newsstand just like she promised him she'd be. 

"Thor!" She burst into laughter and wrapped her arms around him as he launched himself into her lap.  

Uncle Haytham shook her hand. "It is very good to see you, Anneke." 

"You too. Both of you. I'm almost done with my drink, I'll just be a minute. I want to hear all about school, Thor, we haven't talked in ages." 

He started with the most exciting thing. "We had these big cards with ribbons and I finally learned to tie my shoes. Look." He stuck his feet out to show her. 

"That's really good! You must have worked hard." 

"I did. And last week was Egypt week and we learned all about mummies." 

"That _is_   exciting. You must tell me all about it while we walk." She finished her coffee and lifted him to his feet.  

He told her some as they walked, and more at the museum where they got to see real mummies, and then while they ate lunch in the museum restaurant he told her about his friends and how Uncle Haytham let him pick a different color to paint his bedroom and they were going to do that over break. He wasn’t nearly done when the announcement came on that the museum was closing early for Christmas Eve.  

They went to an Ethiopian restaurant for dinner where everyone ate with their hands and the best part was the stuff at the bottom that soaked up all the sauce. After that Anneke took him to the bathroom to wash his hands. She seemed to know he needed cuddles and once they were both washed and dried she picked him up and carried him back to the table, where he leaned against her chest while Uncle Haytham took care of the bill. 

She kissed the top of his head and he sighed. “Can’t you come with us?” 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, and it’s been six years since I’ve spent the whole day with my family. But I’ll see you over spring break, I promise.” 

She walked them back to the station and stood waving while the train pulled away. Thor fell asleep on Uncle Haytham’s lap again and this time he didn’t wake up until he was being tucked gently into bed. 


	12. Love, All Sorts

Seeing his old nanny seemed to give Thor a new sense of confidence, a new understanding that when people left, it didn't have to mean forever. It was a few weeks after Christmas that Haytham got a sitter for the first time and he and Sita went on a date. Prior to that, their evenings out had been determined by when Thor was invited to a friend's house, and that was what she had assumed when he called and invited her to a book reading that Friday night.

"No, I am getting him a sitter. Lavinia's daughter sits for everyone in the department and I am told she is excellent."

"Aren't you nervous?" Sita asked.

"Terrified. But it must be done," he added over her laughter. "It is no good for a child to believe he is the center of the universe. And I read a bit from the book and I think you will like it."

"I would love to go," she answered, still laughing.

She was well aware that many – most, perhaps - women would not have continued a relationship under such circumstances, but it suited her well enough. His dedication to an entirely unexpected challenge was admirable, and each time she saw him being so patient and caring with Thor her heart melted a little more, and if in Thor's place she sometimes pictured another child, younger and darker-haired, she did not think that was so wrong.

Haytham picked her up promptly at six on Friday. It was early to go out to dinner but the reading started at eight and they didn't want to rush.

"You look lovely," he said as he kissed her cheek. "That color suits you."

"I wear this color all the time," she answered, hoping the flush of warmth in her face wasn't visible.

"You wore gray on our last date, and maroon the time before that. I have not seen you in this blue since November."

And the rest of their date managed to be just as good.

 

Keziah had begun roller derby several months before, and after considerable time spent in training and practice she was added to the competitive team. Sita had told Thor about it over dinner one evening and her words had him enrapt, so when Keziah called to say that she had her first game on March seventh, Sita asked Thor if he would like to go watch.

His face lit up. “Can I go?” he begged, turning to Haytham.

“Hmm. I’m not sure...” As though there was any real doubt. He had three papers half-written and was to be part of a panel discussion in late April for which he had found almost no time to prepare.

“ _May_ I? Please?”

“Yes, you _may_ go. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

Thor turned back to her. “March seventh?”

She nodded.

“What’s today?”

“Today is the second. So the seventh is-”

“No, I want to do it,” he interrupted. He held up his fingers and counted it out with such focused determination she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “Five days from now.”

“Exactly. Very good. You’ve been working hard.”

The game was the first time Sita had spent time with Thor without Haytham there as well and she found herself with a newfound respect for his ability to say no to that charming little face with its eager smile. Even with all the things she said no to, by the time they got to their seats he had a long swirly lollipop, a fizzy drink, and a glow stick. She had a strong impulse to tell him not to tell his uncle but she stifled it. “Only because this is a special occasion,” she said instead.

Even with Keziah’s stories and bruises, Sita hadn’t expected it to be quite so rough and she was concerned Thor might be frightened. He was the opposite. Though the game finished well after his normal bedtime he was still bright and alert as they walked out to her car.

“Do they have a kid’s team?”

“I’m quite certain they don’t.”

“Oh. Do you think maybe they can start one?”

He was so earnest and she really didn’t mean to laugh but it was impossible to resist. “I can’t even begin to imagine the insurance nightmare that would be.”

Monday evening Haytham called her. “I had to go talk with Thor’s teacher today. She said he tried to start a mosh pit on the playground.”

“And what did you say?”

“I had to explain that it was roller derby without the rollers. It didn’t help.”

“Oh, Gods,” Sita sighed. “I created a monster.”

“Not a monster. But I’m signing him up for rugby first thing tomorrow.”

Spring passed and summer came. Many of Thor’s friends went to the same day care and so Thor was happy to go as well, which gave Haytham the time to work on the many papers he’d been putting off for months. Neither Sita nor Haytham taught during the summer and so they often spent their days together, drinking lemonade in his backyard or cold tea in hers, the sounds of their typing punctuated by birdsong. He reluctantly took a second year off from his excavations but he did take Thor on a trip to Dinosaur National Park, as he'd promised the little eavesdropper months earlier.

It was in July that Haytham asked her to marry him. They had gone to Dunwich’s fanciest restaurant, ostensibly to celebrate the news of her proposal being accepted by the most prominent military history journal. The candlelight brought out the warmth in his eyes as he took her hand and asked if he might have the honor. She paused and that was enough for him to know.

"I see," he said quietly.

"It's these next few years," she blurted. "I am making good progress towards tenure but it's impossible to know. And right now they're talking about budget cuts and I'm newest so if it comes to that, it would be me that goes. There's so many reasons I may not be able to stay and I know you are settled here."

He looked so sad she desperately wanted to take it all back and simply say yes, but she was not at a point in her life where she could make commitments.

“I appreciate the truth. And this… it’s not the end, is it?”

“That is up to you. I will understand, whatever you decide.”

“I would much rather it not be.”

"Then it is not."

It wasn't the happiest meal they had ever shared but they got through it, and that weekend she invited Haytham and Thor over for dinner to start easing things over.

"It's a beautiful evening. Shall we have our dessert outside?" Haytham suggested.

She smiled. "That sounds lovely."

"You two go ahead. I will cut the cake and bring it out," he offered.

Sita offered her hand to Thor and they went outside together. She sat on one side of the swing and he wiggled up beside her.

"Are you Uncle Haytham’s girlfriend?” he whispered.

She chuckled. “Yes, I am his girlfriend.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe one day.”

“Why not now?” Thor fixed her with his wide blue eyes.

“Because it’s a promise,” she said. “Marrying your uncle means making a promise to both him and you, and I don’t want to make a promise until I’m sure I can keep it. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “It’s important not to break promises. So you’ll be his girlfriend until you decide?”

“I will.”

“Can I call you Aunt Sita?”

She had no idea which would be crueler: saying no and hurting him now, or saying yes, letting him get that much more attached, and possibly hurting him more in the future if she had to find a new position elsewhere. The irresistible face won again. “You _may_ call me Aunt Sita," she corrected.

He leaned against her and she put her arm around him. His little body was still covered in puppy fat and he was warm and seemed to be simply made for cuddles.


	13. Growing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I cut two chapters from my rough draft because they weren't really carrying the narrative forwards, but now without them this feels kind of rushed... I may end up adding them back in later. Let me know if you're super interested in reading about their trip to the National Park.

It was only in retrospect that Thor realized how richly he had thrived in their small and happy home. The one great unhappiness he suffered was when he was ten, and Anneke finished her degree and moved to Oregon for work. They were still talking about once a month at that point. His earliest memories of her had faded the way a chair will when left too long in the sun, but in their place they had made new ones and his fondness for her remained undimmed. Once she had had some time to settle in, Thor’s uncle took him out to visit her and after that when she told him where she had been and what she had done, he could see the places in his mind and it was like being there with her.

Haytham took Thor to Dinosaur for their first summer together, and the year after was Thor's first summer in Norway. He felt he handled the nonstop flight well, a second-hand laptop keeping him entertained. After he dropped it twice he had stopped complaining at not being given a brand-new one. It was true that he still got kind of antsy but there were other kids on the plane who cried, and the flight attendant looking after their row told him how good he was and gave him an extra helping of dessert.

"I can't believe I've been away for two years!" his uncle told him as their plane descended through the clouds and into a fairy tale.

They took a train from Oslo to Trondheim and then another to Vikhammer, where Uncle Haytham was going to work and which Thor thought was the best place name ever. His uncle had explained how lucky it was that he had chosen to make this his place of research, because the town got lots of tourists in the summer, and while they sometimes got annoying, it also meant it was a good place for archaeologists with families.

"Most archaeologists have to leave their families behind," he was told. "But on our dig there are several, and they do all sorts of fun things while we poor sad archaeologists must spend the day digging and working."

It turned out there was one whole side of a campground taken up by people connected to the dig, and three other kids near Thor's age. He was taken on all sorts of adventures, hiking in the woods, riding in a ship, going to museums, playing Vikings. It was impossible to think of a better way to spend the summer and it was with heavy feet that he boarded the train back to Oslo to fly home.

They sat down and his uncle put his arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze as they left the station. "We'll be back next year, Thor. I promise." And so they were, every summer after.

Even though he liked the trips to Norway, Thor did sometimes resent his uncle’s job. Sometimes it took him away for the weekend to a conference, or kept him busy at his computer when Thor wanted to go to the park, but this as well he had come to appreciate in time.

His aunt had begun her job a year after Haytham had begun his, but with the pause in his tenure clock to welcome Thor into his home, hers was granted only six months later. That was in June of the year Thor turned eleven. In July, his uncle proposed to her once again, and that time, she said yes. Haytham’s family came over from Ghana and hers came over from India and it took over two weeks to observe all the celebrations. That was in December and the two families bonded first over their shared horror of the weather to which their own flesh and blood had willingly subjected themselves, and then over their shared interest in the immediate production of babies.

“We’re going to take some time to enjoy being married first,” Aunt Sita laughed when it was first brought up.

"You have been dating for nearly seven years," scolded her mother.

"That is exactly what I keep telling my son," Haytham's father said to her. "Dating almost seven years, they need to hurry up if they don't want to be chasing around little children when they're old and tired."

"And if they don't do it soon, Thor won't have time to get to know his younger brothers and sisters before he goes off to college," Sita's father pointed out. "You must think of him, as well."

"It would do him good to be an older brother," agreed Haytham's mother.

"I might like that," Thor offered, eager to please. Despite his friends' warnings of the horrors of it, he was still jealous of those who got to be big brothers; having someone who idolized him had to have its good side, even if they didn't see it.

"You see? The boy agrees with the rest us," said Sita's mother. "You are the only two in disagreement."

While they were on their honeymoon he stayed at Keziah's house. She had married two years earlier but, as she told Thor, "He hasn't a mechanical bone in his body, poor man," which made him giggle, and the two of them spent every spare minute in her heated garage sanding the rust off an old T-bird.

The years went by without other children. His aunt and uncle were very private about sex between themselves, even though his uncle had given him a gentle and painfully thorough talk that left him with no questions whatsoever, even about things he'd rather not know, and so he never asked them about it. Sometimes they looked sad when they saw other people with babies, but more often they looked happy with each other, with Thor, and with their chosen lives. And so he grew from a well-loved little boy into a well-loved young man.

And that was when his troubles began.


	14. Timing

By the time he was a senior, Thor was the unofficial king of high school. He was by far the most popular kid there, a feat he somehow accomplished by the (according to movies, at least) novel approach of being likable. His uncle's decision to put him into rugby at a young age meant that by the time he tried out freshman year he went straight past the backup team to be one of the main players in JV, and sophomore year he rose to varsity. He was asked more than once to switch to football but he liked that he was doing something a little more unusual. Much as he loved his Aunt and Uncle he sometimes felt painfully, pedestrianly American beside them, his accent flat and unmusical beside their lyrical voices. Teachers liked him as well, even the year that he tried to be a rebel and wore his hair in what was in retrospect a stupid flip over his eye but could never quite bring himself to be rude when they were being nice.

Girls liked him, too. Girls really liked him, and he liked them. He enjoyed a year of light making out with various girls that somehow always ended gracefully, with everyone saying nice things about each other, so different from the acrimonious breakups he saw taking place all around him. And despite his success on the field, no one seemed surprised that his first serious girlfriend was found not among the cheerleaders but from the physics club. What they did seem surprised about was that the first time he asked her out, she said no.

"No offense or anything, you're a really nice guy, but I'm not really into the whole hookup-y thing."

"Okay," he said, secretly proud that he'd managed to take his first-ever rejection so gracefully.

It was two days later that a thought struck him. He was waiting outside lab when the club adjourned. "Hi, can we talk?" he asked, falling into step beside her.

She eyed him. "What about?"

"Going on a date."

"Thor, I said no..."

"And I respect that! Really. It's just that you said you weren't into hookups. You didn't say you weren't interested in _me_ when you turned me down. So... are you? I'm asking about a date. Dinner, movie, that's all."

"That's all?"

"That's all. You pick the movie and everything."

She thought. "Saturday. Pick me up at seven."

He hadn't gotten his license yet so he walked to her house and they got the bus to the Innsmouth mall, just catching the last one home and holding hands as they looked out into the swirling fog. They made each other laugh and they never looked back. They were each other's firsts, which made the awkward fumbling somewhat less humiliating, and when, halfway through senior year, her family moved to Montana, he was sad without being heartbroken.

 

Thor had grown up with the vague knowledge that he was well-off. His memories of the New York apartment where he had lived with Anneke had faded into dimness, but the very fact that he had once had a nanny told him plenty. There was also the fact that Uncle Haytham didn't buy cheap things. "A well-made object lasts longer than a cheap one and in the long run it saves you money," he'd explained, but there was still the unavoidable fact that you had to have the money to spend on those well-made things in the first place. It was not until his eighteenth birthday meeting with Ms. Peterson, at which she gave him not only a copy of his father's will but also reports from his financial planner (he certainly hadn't known he had a financial planner) detailing what he owned and what it was worth, that he realized he was not just comfortably well-off, but loaded. Like, never-have-to-work-a-day-in-his-life loaded. The timing could not have been worse.

When he realized that sudden wealth had had effectively no impact on Haytham's daily life, his esteem for his uncle had grown (and he had started from a position of respect; even in the depths of his adolescent rebellion, he had never felt the disdain that his friends seemed to feel for their parents), but there was the undeniable fact that the money had come to Haytham well after he had chosen and begun his path in life. Thor had just been accepted to college when wealth came to him. He had no idea what he wanted to do with himself and the discovery that he didn't _need_ to do anything made it all the more difficult to do so.

"I know I should feel grateful," he lamented to his counselor. "I am grateful, really, I really do know how lucky I am. But... do you think it's wrong that I wish I hadn't found out just yet?"

He had started seeing Dr. Thompson halfway into fall term because he didn't know who else he could talk to. People who had grown up wealthy seemed content to use college as a convenient way to avoid their parents and make new social connections; people who had grown up without that luxury were already bowing under the weight of debt and campus jobs and the fear that their post-student selves might never earn enough to see themselves freed.

"I don't think it's wrong. For most people, necessity lays out a path before them. You might not have known what you wanted to do, but you knew what you needed to do, right? Education, career, self-sufficiency?"

"Basically, yeah."

"And now you come to learn that you don't need any of that."

He filled his cheeks with air and blew it out in a whoosh. "So what do I do, if I don't need to do anything?"

"With all the things you've gained, what have you lost?" she prompted.

She didn't nudge him when he fell quiet, just shared his silence and gave him time to think.

"Is need itself a thing you can lose?" he asked finally.

"There are needs you can have wholly fulfilled, as you have. So the next question is to figure out what you still need out of life once those are met."

"I have _no_ idea."

"That's okay. It's a question to think about, not one to answer. At least not right now. It's a huge thing it's fine to take your time."

"What about you?" he asked. "If you woke up rich tomorrow, would you still be doing this?"

She gave him a wry smile. "I hope I would. I might move my earliest appointment an hour later, though."


	15. Aimlessness

Thor appreciated Dr. Thompson's advice, but found it difficult to take the theoretical – find something to need, and live for that – and put it into the realm of the practical. At first he thought about majoring in Russian literature because he was pretty sure that he needed the pretty girl a year ahead of him who had declared it, and then he read an essay by Solzhenitsyn about how beauty would save the world and he declared art, and then after discovering that he really couldn't make his hands obey like he wanted he switched to anthropology, and then to music appreciation.

"And are you too grown up to come to Norway and join the family camp this year?" his uncle had teased over the phone in March of Thor's first year, as Haytham was beginning to make his summer's plans.

"Never, uncle," Thor assured him. "Though I might start sleeping through some of the morning stuff."

Haytham had laughed, the deep booming sound pouring through the airwaves and giving Thor a sharp pang of homesickness. "Then I will buy your tickets."

He had just spent spring break in Florida with some friends and though he'd had a blast he now found himself wishing he'd gone home for the week instead.

Summer came soon, though, and he had two weeks in his old room, eating the Indian-Ghanaian fusion food that had become a staple of their kitchen, before it was time to head back to the airport. Sita was in the first of three years acting as department chair, and she waved them goodbye with a long face.

The months flew by in what felt like one long sunlit day. He had six more days of vacation before returning to school and a life of what was, for someone of his age and wallet, much too much freedom.

He genuinely liked some of his professors, and worked hard in their classes even when they were teaching about composers and periods he found underwhelming. He even took a seminar on Philip Glass purely because of who was teaching it, so no one could say that he wasn't dedicated to his studies. But the truth, one which he hardly even admitted to himself, was that he was far more dedicated to other things. Mostly his dick. It was tough not to be, when he had half the girls on campus throwing themselves at him and, once he came out as pan, a considerable number of the guys and genderqueer people as well. He had his own apartment and it was simply so easy to invite people over to study or watch a movie and then fall into bed (or across the arm of the sofa, or into the shower, or over the kitchen counter) with them.

"You should host an orgy here," Dom told him one evening, gazing around with bleary eyes. "All this open space and no roommate? You're totally wasting it having one person over. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Thor liked Dominic. He had a lively sense of play, as one might expect from a power bottom who chose to go by Dom rather than Nic. "You're right. I should. I take it you have a proposed guest list?" he added, seeing the light spark on Dom's face.

"Not a complete one. I'm sure you'd have others to invite. But I can help get it started for you."

"In the morning. Come on, let's go to bed. I don't want to fall asleep on the floor."

It had been a rousing success and he had gone on to host a whole series of them, and had even been thinking about going into it professionally – it was the perfect sort of niche business for someone who needed to keep himself busy but didn't need to make a profit – but after a couple years the appeal began to dull and he got onto an arthouse cinema kick instead.

It was easy to slide from college into the same sort of life only without classes. He had briefly thought to work at a non-profit, because there was no way they could pay well and so it made sense that they be run by people who didn't really need the salary, but after a series of polite but firm rejections he was forced to realize that while they couldn't pay well, they still needed staffers who were skilled at something more practical than writing about music.

That led to a series of unpaid internships at music magazines where he thought he might learn about music journalism but instead was expected to brew coffee and he could do that for himself and still be able to sleep in.

Voluntourism was his next thing. He paid five thousand dollars for the chance to spend a week planting potatoes in Peru; eight thousand to act in a performance of Antigone at a refugee camp in Greece; twelve thousand to teach English for a month in Bali. And none of these, none of these, gave him what he needed. He was just starting to give serious consideration to another round of college, this time focused on a practical degree, when his twenty-fifth birthday rolled around and his uncle told him it was time to come home.

"I was planning to go to Ibiza," Thor said. "I could come back and see you guys after?"

"This is important. Or at least I think it is."

"You don't know?"

"It's to do with your father. One last thing with which he entrusted me."

"My dad was crazy. You know that."

"I admit that I have found myself questioning some of his decisions," Haytham acknowledged, which was the closest he ever got to outright criticism when speaking to Thor (though Thor had overheard enough to have a better picture of his uncle's opinion than he was meant to know). "But whatever his mental state, I was of sound mind when I gave my word, and so I must keep it."

"And it has to be on my birthday? Why don't you two come to Ibiza? It's really beautiful, and it's not all just clubbing, like you'd think."

"Thor," Haytham said gently. "It's time to come home."


	16. Waiting

His uncle was teaching a one-week intensive, but Sita was able to meet Thor at the airport. He spied her from the escalator down to baggage claim, frowning and typing furiously into her phone. He crept up behind her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Hello, Aunt."

"Thor!" She whirled around and pulled him into a tight embrace. Even now, with him towering over her and his shoulders almost twice the width of hers, her hugs still managed to make him feel small and safe.

"It's good to see you," he told her.

"And you as well. You know, I think you're bigger every time I see you."

"I've been the same height for three years now."

"I mean this way," she said, gesturing at his shoulders.

He laughed. "That I haven't been measuring."

“Bigger,” she assured him. “Now you must excuse me one moment, I’m in the middle of an email for work and if I don’t finish it fast enough this phone will lose it.”

“I can buy you a new phone, Aunt Sita. We’ll go look tomorrow.”

“This one still works. I just have to use it the way that makes it work. Have you read about the conditions in the mines where they get the metals for these things? If white people were being treated like that there would be an international outcry.”

Thor, who hadn’t read about that, thought guiltily of the new laptop he’d just bought because it was easier than getting a larger hard drive installed in his old one. He was saved from having to answer by the harsh _eeeeh_ of the alarm that signaled the start of the conveyor belt. “I’ll go watch for my suitcase,” he said.

 

The weather was beautiful and Thor wished the train windows could open. His aunt insisted on taking the aisle seat so he could see all the changes since his last visit.

“But I block your view, and you don’t block mine,” he pointed out.

“I got to watch on the way to the airport. Now be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

“Yes, Aunt,” Thor said meekly.

A few people turned to look at them, curiosity piqued by their differing accents. Everyone in their tight-knit community at home had long ago gotten used to seeing a blond white boy with his Indian aunt and Ghanaian uncle, but outside of Dunwich it drew them quiet but constant attention. All three of them had grown half-used to ignoring it. Half.

“There’s so much construction,” Thor marveled as the train moved into what used to be countryside.

“The way of the world. Everything changes, and nothing stays the same.”

“Boethius?”

“Heraclitus. Good guess, though.”

“E for Effort?” he asked, giving her that smile that always made her allow him more than she meant to.

She grinned at him. “Perhaps. But don’t tell my students.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He made a zipping motion over his lips.

“Has your uncle told you what this is about?”

He unzipped. “Just something to do with my father. Has he told you?”

She shook her head. “It’s driving me bananas.”

“Do you think he’s really going to make us wait for my birthday?” That would be another three days of bananas for both of them.

“Yes. When I told him I couldn’t stand it, he said he’s had to stand it for nearly twenty years. No pity from that one.”

“Like getting water from a stone. Have I ever told you about the time I wanted a dinosaur sleeping bag?”

“Well, _that_ was just sensible of him. You’d have outgrown it far too quickly.”

“I know.”

“He worries about you, you know. He worries that maybe he should have raised you rich, that you wouldn’t be so aimless now if you’d grown up with it,” she said abruptly.

“Oh my god, no. That would have been even worse,” he answered. He thought about the people he spent his time with, traveling and partying, and how they were all at loose ends just like him but most of them didn’t even know it. “I want to matter. He gave me that. I’m just trying to figure out how to do it.”

“I suppose you’ll recognize your place in the world once you see it.”

“I hope so.”

 

The house smelled like heaven when they got back, the unmistakable scent of his uncle's Red Red made with garam masala and extra peppers, a modification he'd first made to suit Sita's tastes and then discovered they all liked it. Haytham came out of the kitchen, dusting his hands off on a towel. He was one of very few people Thor didn't have to lean down to hug.

"It's good to see you, uncle," Thor said.

"You as well. You're broader every time I see you."

"That's what Aunt Sita said, too."

"Then I know I'm right." Haytham stepped back to look Thor up and down. "You look well."

"So do you."

"Me? I'm going gray." He ran a fingertip over his temple. "I found three here, just last week."

"Only three, at your age? That's not bad."

"Your Aunt keeps me young."

Sita gave him an indulgent smile. "I've had my chance to catch up, you two sit and talk while I do the plantains."

It was good to be home, to spend time with his family and go out a couple evenings to catch up with his friends. The only thing that kept it from being perfect was the gnawing anticipation of what it was that had brought him.

And then it was his birthday, and he was afraid that his uncle would make him wait until after they'd gone out to dinner and blown out his candles, but he was in luck. When Haytham appeared at the breakfast table, he was carrying a heavy box that had streaks of dust showing where he'd hurriedly wiped it off. He put it down in front of Thor and handed him a key.


	17. Behind the Lock

Thor took the key and waited for his uncle to sit down before fitting it into the lock. It was stiff with disuse and the bolt was reluctant to throw.

"We have some liquid graphite in the garage," said his aunt, and he was just about to ask for it when iron shrieked against iron and the lid bobbed up. A smell of age wafted out, dry stone and blooming metal. The scent bore with it strange thoughts, images of blood and battle and a discomfiting sense of loss.

"This is weird," Thor said. His voice held none of the bravado that he had meant. He opened the lid and settled it back on its hinge.

Inside he found another box, this one unlocked. Inside that was yet another box, one of such antiquity the very wood threatened to crumble beneath his fingertips, but what seized his attention was the folded piece of paper with his name.

"That's your father's hand," said his uncle.

"I think I want to look in the box first," Thor said, though really he didn't want to look at any of it. It was the sort of thing that happened in dream sequences in movies. Not strange enough for Lynch, maybe, but strange enough for someone who until a few weeks ago had expected to be spending this day on the beach with his friends.

The fragile wood held intact as Thor carefully raised the lid. Inside were small yellowish sheets folded together like a pamphlet no bigger than his palm. They looked too stiff for paper.

"Can I touch it?" Thor asked his uncle.

He nodded. "Wash your hands first, and don't force anything that doesn't want to open."

Thor went to the bathroom so they wouldn't see that he not only washed his hands but also splashed his face with cold water. It didn't wake him up. So much for that theory.

The sheets were even thicker than they looked, but pliable, and he folded back the top page to reveal runes, a single line of text running across the top in a brittle and unsettling red, the rest an ink that had long ago faded into a pale brown.

"Look at those," his uncle breathed.

"What's it say?"

He shook his head. "They look more similar to Elder Futhark than anything else I know, but..." He sighed. "No, they're not anything I've seen. But look at the workmanship.. The parchment is terrible quality, almost amateurish – see where they didn't even get all the hair scraped off? - but the hand is exceptionally fine."

Thor wasn't sure exactly what made a hand fine or not, but he couldn't help being affected by his uncle's clear and reverent awe. "I suppose I should see what my father said about it."

"Yes, of course," Haytham agreed. He was still staring as Thor put the pages back into their box.

Thor picked up the letter and unfolded it. Dust settled upon his tongue as he opened his mouth to read.

"My dear son," he began with a bitter laugh. "I hope you will be able to forgive me for my shameful abandonment of you. Your birth cost me the life of one who was loved as people are seldom loved, and I am certain that in time I would have reconciled myself to you, but time, it seems, is a gift I am fated to do without. My inability to gaze upon your face has been no small torment as I sit here now in one final act of contemplation of the unimaginable discovery I have made."

Thor's throat felt tight and thick and he paused for a sip of water before continuing.

"Many years ago I was assisting upon an excavation in the north of Norway where I uncovered a small wooden casket. It is only my later discovery that can explain the compulsion that drove me to secret it within my jacket rather than presenting it to the field director. That is the casket which you see before you now. Contained within it is a fragment of a codex bearing a prophecy made centuries ago. Upon detailed study it became clear to me that the subject of this ancient wisdom is you, my son. Attached to this letter you will find a full translation and my explanation of how I came to understand your connection. I have no doubt you will go on to fulfill the words of the seer. All my love," - and here Thor laughed again, with no more happiness - "your father."

Haytham shook his head. "I knew he could be overbearing at times, but I had no idea he would ever commit such an act as robbing a dig."

"He was unwell, with this talk of prophecies and Thor filling them," said Aunt Sita. "Perhaps it was his conscience, though clouded by illness, that led him to such an interpretation, so Thor might return the box to the rightful owner."

"Who would that even be?" asked Thor.

"The Directorate for Cultural Heritage will help. I know some people there, I can put you in touch," his uncle said.

Thor's chest felt tight, as though his stomach were twisting in knots. "I don't even know if I want to read his translation, or whatever it is. He always left me alone before, I don't see why he had to stop now. He's not even alive and he's still finding ways to-" He broke off.

Aunt Sita put her hand on his knee. "Perhaps this new knowledge can help us find compassion. The man who wrote that was clearly not in his right mind. He might have done his best while carrying an unfair burden."

He gave a reluctant nod and turned the page.


	18. Interpretation

TRANSLATION OF THE STRANGE RUNES UPON THE LEAVES

[Motto written in red across the top of each set of leaves]

That is not dead which can eternal lie / And with strange aeons even death may die

 

[Text of the codex fragment]

…and if he does not come to know himself in this life he shall die in the year a man first writes with light.

Only from Hel shall he find knowledge.

His next return will be greeted by the new knowledge of realms beyond the realms and the realm shall be told one moon after the death of winter.

He will be born within sight of a temple to a king who warred for a god who is no god and his birth-price shall be held beyond a fleet of ships.

He shall live in that place where the dragon hoards its gold and the gold itself shall be as god.

The day his mother is born the ice itself shall cry out, and the day his father is born a nation shall take up arms against its children.

Seventy-nine years will he then be granted and if he does not come to know himself in this life he shall die in the year a woman rides in the chariot of Máni.

Only from Hel shall he find...

Thor set down the sheet. "And that's where it cuts off," he said.

"It's certainly cryptic," said his aunt.

"Read the rest. I am curious to hear how he claims to make sense of this," asked Haytham.

"Sure," Thor answered, shrugging. Might as well.

"Properly understood, the prophecy traces the incarnations of a single individual, apparently through many lives, as indicated by the lines with which it begins," Thor read.

" _And if he does not come to know himself in this life he shall die in the year a man first writes with light._ This can only mean that the person will die in 1825, the year Nicéphore Niépce invented heliography, if he doesn't 'come to know himself' - and this, my son, is the only puzzle that has eluded me, for the only clue as to how you will avoid death is the next line, _Only from Hel shall he find knowledge._ I cannot work out what this means. You must make it your life's work to do so."

Thor heaved a sigh and continued reading. " _His next return will be greeted by the new knowledge of worlds beyond the realms and the world shall be told one moon after the death of winter._ 'The new knowledge of the world beyond the realms' can only refer to the discovery of extra-solar planets. This finding was made public on April the twenty-first of 1992 – just a few months before you were born, Thor - one month after the spring equinox, or, as the fragment says, one month after the death of winter.' _He will be born within sight of a temple to a king who warred for a god who is no god and his birth-price shall be held beyond a fleet of ships._ You were born in the St Olav hospital in Trondheim, and from the window we could see the spire of the Nidaros Cathedral. To the writer of these pages, Olav's fight for Christianity would have been sacrilege. And as you know only too well, to my unending sorrow, your birth cost your mother's life. I would have paid any price to save her."

"And blamed me for it that you could not," Thor muttered. Under the table, gentle hands came to rest upon each of his knees.

_"He shall live in that place where the dragon hoards its gold and the gold itself shall be as god._ The gold vault at the Federal Reserve Bank has the world's largest gold deposit, kept underground in the middle of Manhattan's Financial District. The rest of the meaning here is clear enough that no explanation can be necessary."

" _The day his mother is born the ice itself shall cry out, and the day his father is born a nation shall take up arms against its children._ Your mother was from Greenland, where the glaciers crack and groan beneath the sun, and she used to tell of her mother complaining that the glaciers were louder than she was, even in the midst of birth! And my own birthday, as I doubt you will recall, is September fourth, 1957, the day the Little Rock Nine were prevented from entering their school by the Arkansas National Guard."

" _Seventy-nine years will he then be granted and if he does not come to know himself in this life he shall die in the year a woman rides in the chariot of Máni._ You have seventy-nine years – fifty-four, now, for I did not wish to burden you with this knowledge at too early an age – to learn whatever it is you are meant to know about yourself, or you will die and return again, almost certainly without the benefit of these leaves to teach you of your fate."

Thor set the paper down again, staring at the cheerful morning outside the window.

"What is the chariot of Mani?" Aunt Sita asked. "Does he attempt to explain that?"

Thor glanced down. "A female astronaut will walk on the moon. I wonder if I'm to live to witness it?"

"Clearly he was out of his senses," Haytham said.

Thor picked up the sheet and read through the explanations once again. "It does all fit, though... Uncle Haytham, what if he wasn't?"


	19. New Purpose

"It does make sense. His interpretation, it all fits."

Sita knew that look on Thor's face. It was the same one she'd seen each time he changed his major in college, always convinced that this time he'd found the right one. It was the same look she'd seen when he jetted off on various excursions to save the world. It broke her heart to see how badly he ached for a purpose, for meaning. But that didn't mean this was the answer.

"Thor, these things are so vaguely written, that could be understood a hundred different ways with equal validity. And that's assuming his translation is even right..."

Sita looked at Haytham for agreement. His face bore the same cautious worry she knew was on her own.

"I must agree with your aunt, Thor," he said gently. "These characters alone are more than enough to question his translation, setting aside the fact that your father was no scholar of the tongue. He must have transliterated as best he could and then used a dictionary. Just look at the wording. 'Only from Hel shall he find knowledge.' It makes no sense. Nor does the rest of it, for all his efforts."

"No, it's a puzzle," Thor insisted. "I just have to make sense of it. This is a testament to reincarnation, don't you see? I'll keep coming back until I learn what it is I need to learn. Is that so different from what you believe, aunt? And this is my guide. All I have to do is figure it out." His eyes had the feverish glint that one saw in former smokers and the newly religious.

"There are many guides already, and they are written for everyone," she told him. "I understand how much you want to believe this, but I am afraid you will only be hurt."

Haytham took her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. "We're simply asking you not to put too much hope in this. Pursue it if you wish but do so with your mind rather than your heart."

"And I will! You don't feel your way through a puzzle, after all. I _have_ to use my head."

"Very well," Haytham sighed, and she did not have to hear his thoughts to know them. Perhaps this was better than whatever else Thor might be doing instead.

"Your uncle must get ready for work," Sita said, because someone had to break the spell cast over this most peculiar of days.

"Yes, of course. I'll make breakfast," Thor offered, jumping up. Sita smiled at him. For all his loose ends, he still made her a very proud aunt.

 

Once Thor had a subject for his dedication he gave himself wholeheartedly. He remained with them for some months, taking advantage of Asenath's excellent library on Norse history and archaeology, delving into the theorized sources for the runes, studying the suspected transition from Old Italic to Elder Futhark. Sita’s own work (now called ‘digital humanities,’ a phrase that seemed to bring in much more grant money than ‘computational humanities’ ever did) was almost entirely database-dependent, but she put him in touch with a colleague in Oregon who was researching the evolution of alphabets and was happy to share the program he had developed to draft intermediate letter forms when given parent and child character sets. “Look how well they match,” Thor said, presenting them with a scan of his leaves and a printout of the computer-generated letters side by side.

“It is impressive,” Haytham admitted. It was, as was the rigor Thor used in his work. Despite how much he wanted to prove his father’s claims, he was approaching the task with objectivity. He was, as his uncle had cautioned him, using his head.

That was how he approached the translation as well, taking his work to linguists in Iceland and Scandinavia, collating and comparing their results. There were some variations, as would be expected from any two translators of the same text, but nothing beyond that. No real differences of opinion. And the one thing upon which they all agreed exactly was the one crucial line, upon which Thor had hoped they might shed some light if only in their variations: ‘only from Hel shall he find knowledge.’

“She’s the goddess of the underworld,” Thor mused. “But if I’m supposed to get knowledge from someone, ‘find’ is such a strange word to use. Wouldn’t you say ‘gain?’ And it’s also the name of her realm, but the same thing holds.”

“Perhaps a root word?” Haytham suggested. Despite himself, and despite his refusal to believe that the leaves spoke of Thor, he was becoming almost as enthralled by the puzzle as Thor was himself. Sita, for whom reincarnation was already an accepted principle, was finding it harder to share her husband’s continued doubts. So much had already been proven right.

“Hmm. Maybe,” Thor agreed. That led him into a whole study of the goddess (if she was one, which seemed a continued matter of debate among certain scholars), her realm, and every word that could possibly be associated with her. “’Hidden’ makes the most sense,” he finally concluded. “’From that which is hidden shall he find knowledge.’ But what do I do with that? It’s hardly better than being told nothing.”

Hitting a dead end after nearly two years of rigorous and dedicated study sent him into despondency. Sita would return home to find him still in bed, staring at the ceiling. When he did get up he went on hour-long runs to exhaust himself, or sat on his floor looking through his mementos of childhood as though he might escape back into it. And that was where he found his answer.

Sita and Haytham were in the living room watching a documentary when Thor appeared in the doorway holding a photo album full of old snapshots of his summers in Norway.

“I’ve been thinking too hard,” he told them. He opened the album to the page he had flagged and there was a photograph of himself when he was perhaps fourteen, all gangly limbs and feet he hadn’t yet grown into, standing beneath a train station sign. Hell. “Not the goddess. The place. I have to go.”


	20. Doubt

It was clear to Haytham that Sita was having an increasingly difficult time not believing that the text fragment really was a prophecy about Thor. It made sense that of the two of them, it would be her that was more inclined towards the subject. After all, everything within it fit at least vaguely well with her faith and her thoughts about the universe, while they utterly contradicted everything Haytham had been raised to believe. To Haytham, it was a curiosity, a puzzle of ever-increasing interest, but that was all.

"You think you'll find the answer there?" Haytham asked, not trying to hide his dubiousness. The village wasn't much more than a post office and a grocery store, with a pub down by the jetty; the main reason people went was to take photos just like Thor's.

Thor shook his head. "It says _from_ there. That's my starting point."

"And once you get there, then what?"

"I don't know. I'll talk to people. Ask about local legends, see if I pick up anything useful. This is it. I'm going. I have to."

"If you are willing to wait until next month, I will go with you," said Sita. "I'm still not fully convinced, but... if this text really is about you, I will help."

Haytham heaved a sigh. "My dig starts the first of July. I can join you until that begins."

"That would mean so much to me," Thor said, looking between them. "I really think this is it. This is what I'm supposed to do. I've been searching so long..."

"I will always stand by you," Sita told him, taking his hand with her own. "I hope you know that."

"I do. Thank you, aunt."

"And I will keep my trust. Your father asked me to watch over you and so I shall," said Haytham.

Thor gave him a grateful smile. "When can we leave?"

Haytham looked at Sita. "I give my last final on the twenty-eighth of May. I suppose I could grade on the plane..."

She shook her head. "You'll have time. Mine is the first of June, and I'll need a day to run the cards through the scanner."

"Multiple choice exams are looking more appealing every year," he told her.

She chuckled and turned to Thor. "It seems our day is the third."

He nodded. "Thirty-four days. I can wait."

"Good. You can fill some of that time by checking the oven for me," she told him.

 

Thor insisted on buying their new tickets. Normally the two of them went together at the end of June and Sita stayed for the first month of the dig before flying home and spending August on her own research and the road trip with Keziah that had become an annual event. Haytham always missed her when she left, but her cheerful texts and the barrage of photos of her laughing with her best friend went a long way towards making the separation easier to bear.

"Your aunt's ticket needs to be bought separately. She returns at the end of July," Haytham reminded Thor when after dinner he announced he was going to go buy their seats right then, while there was still some choice in the selection.

"I remember," Thor called back as he dashed up the stairs.

"You truly believe in this?" Haytham asked, turning to Sita.

She sighed. "I don't know, but I believe he needs it. He'll never find peace if he doesn't pursue it, you know that as well as I do. He'll always wonder. And who would he go with, if not us? All his real friends will be at their jobs. I don't trust these people he goes around with these days, the ones who've never had to work a day in their lives."

Haytham almost said that Thor had never had to work a day in his life, either, but that wasn't accurate. He'd never had to _earn_ a day in his life. He'd always had chores appropriate to his age, and even now, along with paying his share of the household expenses, he did what was necessary without giving it a thought. Haytham wondered how many of his rich-life friends had ever carried a bag of garbage to the curb.

"I suppose you are right. I'm still doubtful, though."

"And yet you're going," she said, patting his hand.

"Yes," he sighed. "I am."


	21. The Journey to Hell

Thor couldn't remember ever feeling so restless on an airplane. Even his first flight, when he was a little kid, hadn't been so hard. Of course, that time the simple fact that he was on a plane at all made it exciting in a way that flying no longer was. Something momentous waited for him and though it had waited... centuries? Millennia? That knowledge made these last few hours no easier to bear.

There were no non-stop flights from Boston to Oslo so they had connected through Kennedy and would arrive in Oslo the afternoon of June fourth. Between customs and baggage claim they would miss the last of the afternoon trains, which – were he to consider it rationally, which he didn't want to do – might not be such a bad thing. It meant spending over six hours at the airport but it would allow them to catch the overnight train to Trondheim and perhaps be at least vaguely on local time when they reached Hell.

"Was he like this when you took him travelling as a child?" Sita asked Haytham.

"Not nearly. He knew he wouldn't get another trip for years if he didn't behave himself."

Thor grinned. "Maybe you should have brought an old laptop to keep me busy."

"I rather think the first-class amenities should be enough," his uncle said drily.

"I really am sorry. I don't mean to be so fidgety," he told them. "It's just... I feel like this is what I've been waiting for my whole life without even knowing it. And now it's so close I don't know how to wait."

"How many hours to Hell?" asked Sita. She normally had a soft voice, which meant her current volume was set entirely to amuse herself with the reactions of the passengers seated around them.

He'd set his watch to Central European Time four days earlier. "It's one a.m. there now, so twenty-nine hours," he told her.

Twenty-nine turned into twenty-eight, then twenty-seven, aided in no small part by the two flight attendants who hovered over them rather more closely than the rest of the cabin, flirting with Thor and refilling his glass every time it got low. Dinner came out, not exciting but probably as good as it could get at this altitude, and was cleared up. Dessert and port followed, and then the cabin lights were dimmed.

"Sometimes watching something stupid helps me fall asleep when I can't stop thinking," said Sita. "Something to distract my mind from my thoughts, but too stupid to keep me engaged and awake. Airlines always have a plethora of suitable choices."

Thor was skeptical but there was nothing to lose by trying it, so he slipped on his headphones and turned on his screen and somehow, the next thing he knew he was being woken by the smell of breakfast.

 

The Oslo airport was just as Thor remembered, sweeping lines and tall high windows and the mottled gray floor that looked like the ocean in winter. They cleared customs and collected their luggage before wandering around in search of what looked like the slowest restaurant.

It was almost agony not to order anything caffeinated - the five hours between dinner and breakfast on the plane wasn't nearly enough - but they had sleeper cars on the Trondheim train and falling asleep the second their heads hit their pillows sounded even better. Instead they drank lingonberry soda and nibbled their way through the entire appetizer menu one item at a time.

"I thought you were too excited to sleep?" Haytham teased halfway through the plate of smoked salmon on dill toast. It was deceptively simple and far better than they ever managed to find in the US even though the ingredients could be counted on one hand, and while Haytham was only echoing what Thor himself had said, he could hardly keep his eyes open long enough to reach for another piece.

"I am. That's not the same as being alert," Thor pointed out.

"Ah, I see," laughed his uncle.

At last eleven o'clock rolled around, still too early to really need to get to the platform but they went all the same in the interest of something different to do. The train rolled in promptly at eleven-thirty-four and they climbed aboard. They found their cars, two sleepers on the left-hand side where they would have a few minutes' more peace from the sun, and said their well-earned goodnights.

 

Even with the heavy curtains, the sun began creeping in not long after four. Thor rose and changed from the previous day's clothing into fresh before making his way to the dining car. He was just sitting down with a pastry and a steaming cup of coffee – little better than that served on American trains, he was sorry to be reminded – when his aunt and uncle appeared.

"Four hours of sleep is not enough," Sita groaned, sinking into the chair across from him.

"You want coffee and pastry?" Haytham asked her.

She waved her hand. "No food. I don't want anything slowing down the caffeine absorption."

Haytham chuckled. "I'll be right back," he told them.

The bags under her eyes looked almost big enough to replace her luggage and Thor felt a pang of guilt. "Thank you for doing this, aunt," he told her.

"I think I'm going to need a day to rest before we begin... whatever it is we're going to begin doing. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

"That's alright. It's going to take me some time to track down everything I'll need. The car rental I could do online, but I have to talk to people. Go to the bar, down to the jetty, ask questions, find out what there is to hear. Hire a boat, maybe. I doubt I'll have trouble finding a captain willing to take us out if I pay more than the value of his uncaught fish."

"Try to find one that doesn't smell too much."

He crossed his heart. "Hope to die."


	22. Getting Settled

The car rental place opened early. Probably specifically for the people who poured off this train, Thor mused as the three of them joined the line of people making their way from the platform through the station to take their bleary-eyed turn at the stack of paperwork that always accompanied the handing over of keys and reminder of which side the gas tank was on. From the skeptical look the agent gave him, he must have looked even more bleary-eyed than most, but after only the briefest pause he had the keys in his hand and a parking space number to find the matching car.

Hell was half an hour's drive away, nearer to Trondheim than the Trondheim airport was. The roads here were built upon ancient paths nestled into the valleys between the spiky and tree-covered hills that shot abruptly upwards. At times these valleys were wide enough for fields, and the early morning sun shone down on even spreads of rich green leaves on either side of them, and then in a single second they would be plunged into twilight as the hills closed in. The forest was coniferous, the trees far enough apart that they never fully darkened the ground, but many years ago Thor had learned that the half-light did little to keep one from getting lost.

He had reserved their guesthouse rooms starting the week before their arrival so that he could ship the gear for their expedition and have it waiting for them when they arrived. He had not thought, at the time, about how tired they would be, but now it was heaven itself to have a bed ready and waiting.

Midafternoon his stomach woke him. He took a quick shower and scribbled a note to slide under the door of his aunt and uncle's room. _Gone exploring for food, I have my phone._ Each room had been provided with a simple hand-drawn map of the town, marking their location, the train station, and other essentials. There was a restaurant farther inland and a pub near the water. From the front door the land sloped down towards the sea and so he headed for the pub, saving the climb for after he had eaten.

If one were to visit Hell without being told that it was one town, they would be more likely to describe it as a close group of small hamlets, each one a cluster of perhaps ten or twelve buildings nestled together in small patches of flat ground. The guesthouse was in the middle of these, and Thor walked down through bits of forest, the birdsong making him smile to himself, through the next hamlet which appeared to be nothing but houses, and finally down to the stretch of plain beside the sea. There, to his right, was the tiny train station where he'd once been photographed, and he veered over to snap a quick selfie before continuing on.

At midafternoon the pub was open but empty save for the bartender who greeted him as he entered. It was a small room with odds and ends hanging from the walls panelled in unfinished wood and filled with mismatched furniture. It had just the right amount of chaos to feel snug, like someone's well-used living room, and Thor sank onto a surprisingly comfortable bar stool as he was offered a menu.

He ordered in Norwegian and was answered in English, the same way it always worked once someone heard his accent. He was halfway through his baked potato when his phone chirped with a text.

_Bring us something, would you?_

_Of course,_ he answered.

It was late afternoon when he began the climb back up the hill, one foil-wrapped potato nestled in each pocket of his lightweight jacket. He found them sitting in the garden, chatting with the owner of the guesthouse, and greeted them as he slung himself into the empty fourth chair at their table. He produced their food with a flourish.

"I see you found the Godt Sted," said the owner, rising.

"The map was excellent, thank you. Please don't go on my account."

"I have some paperwork to be addressed, but thank you. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you. We will," said Haytham.

Thor peeled back the foil and peered inside. "Ham for you, uncle, and aunt, I got you vegetarian. Whatever that means."

"I'm sure it will be fine. Did you learn anything?"

He shook his head. "The bartender was the only one there, and I thought it would be better to take things a little easy. I don't want to put people off by getting too pushy with questions."

It was going to be difficult to make himself wait, but he knew that in the long run, it would be faster to start slow and let people get used to his presence, at least a little. In the meantime, he planned on exploring the wilderness surrounding the town, going on drives and hikes in whatever direction called to him, and to spend the evenings at the pub until the time presented itself.

Thor wasn't good at waiting even in the best of times. Then again, perhaps this time, he wouldn't need to. He was half-asleep that night when something scratched against his window.


	23. Signs

Thor leapt from his bed and threw back the curtain to find nothing. He opened the window and leaned out, peering down the smooth face of the building, its white paint luminous beneath the gibbous moon. There wasn't even a trellis that a squirrel might have climbed. There were trees perhaps fifteen feet away, but nothing near the force of wind that would have been required to bend their branches so far over. He cast a second, closer look over the ground, glaring, as though the intensity of his gaze might compel a lurker out of hiding.

Nothing. He sighed and closed the window.

His sleep after that was uninterrupted, the heavy curtains keeping his room nearly pitch-black until he rose and drew them back to squint at the brilliant day. He dressed and went downstairs to see if his aunt and uncle were already up. They weren't, but the buffet had been set up, and he always ate so much more than they did it was only reasonable for him to start.

Breakfast was provided in the cozy dining room off the lobby, one long table covered with baskets of different types of fresh breads, plates of sliced cheeses and meats, and dishes of butter and jam. Thor was on his third pass (and making a mental note that perhaps he ought to leave a bit more money; no one else was taking more than one plates'-worth of food, and several people were openly staring at him) when Haytham and Sita appeared. They said their good mornings and filled their plates, and when they got to the table assigned them two more cups of coffee had magically appeared beside Thor's own.

The stares had only increased when his aunt and uncle arrived. Thor didn't mind being looked at for his appetite but now he stared back with growing hostility until the other guests turned away.

"They're curious, is all," Haytham said.

Thor gave a bitter smile. "You've been saying that since I was a child. It may be the truth but I know you are no happier about it than am I."

"No," agreed his uncle.

They ate in silence for some minutes before Sita spoke. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Straight through the night." He didn't know why he lied.

 

After breakfast they got directions to a small grocery store and bought some things for a picnic lunch before piling into the car to head up into the forest.

"How are you deciding where to go?" asked Haytham.

"Oh, just whims, uncle. Nothing else to go on yet."

At the first fork in the road, Thor turned left because he was left-handed. At the next, he flipped a coin. At the third, he played eenie-meenie-miney-mo. All seemed like equally valid ways of making a decision.

They were nearly an hour away from town when a raven swooped across the road, so low Thor had to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting it. His head was spinning from the shock and he put the car into neutral, giving himself a chance to recover. And that was when he saw it.

"Hey, look. Is that a path, where the raven was flying?"

Sita and Haytham were both on the right side of the car, Haytham's hand still on her shoulder from when he'd reached up to brace her small body. Both heads turned to look where he pointed.

"I think it's a streambed," said Sita. "The water is mostly lower than the rocks, but look up a ways, you can see it flash in the sun."

"Yes. I think you're right." Water felt right. It _was_ right. It ran its course and evaporated and returned as rain in a cycle so very much like his own. Thor's heart gave a hard thump. "Shall we go explore?"

"It seems as good a place as any. And who knows? Perhaps the raven was Huginn," Haytham said.

Sita cocked a brow. "Huginn?"

"One of Odin's ravens. His name means 'thought.'"

Thor gazed into the trees, his eyes following the path of the bird. "Or perhaps it was Muninn. Memory," he murmured.

They left the car parked as far to the side of the road as it would fit and put on their tick hats. Here, standing in the ribbon of clearing, the air was alive with sound; the hum of insects, the singing of birds, even the distant roar of a chainsaw as another section of forest was cut. For no reason at all they paused and stood looking at each other before turning as one to set foot into the woods.


	24. Searching

The hush that fell over them only a few feet inside the line of trees felt little short of supernatural. Thor led the way, testing the stability of each rock before shifting his weight onto it. He was careful to keep his steps short enough for his aunt, whose head now barely reached his shoulder. Haytham was at the back, and if Thor hadn't known better he would have said he was nervous. Thor was definitely nervous, himself; the stillness of the air felt like a heavy blend of patience and anticipation, as though something primeval was out there, waiting to be found. It made sense that whatever he was meant to find was ancient, if an entire book had been written to describe all his cycles of reincarnation. Once again his thoughts turned towards his wish for just a single leaf more of the prophetic codex.

It was slow going and the hill was tall. "Is anyone else ready for lunch?" Thor asked when they were halfway up.

"I could wait or eat," said Haytham.

"The more we eat, the less we have to carry," Sita pointed out.

"Technically, we're carrying it either way," Haytham answered.

She looked at him.

"Of course, it's better balanced in our stomachs, so the work is easier," he added.

They sat on a fallen tree that had made its own clearing as it fell. Lunch was much like breakfast, slices of bread, slices of meat, slices of cheese. Apples at the end, munched as they continued up the steep hillside, following the trail of the stream up to a burbling spring near the crest. Thor knelt to examine the rocks, picking them up one at a time, turning them over in his hands, looking for inscriptions or some other sort of clue.

"Nothing," he finally sighed.

"It's getting late enough we should probably be heading down," Sita told him.

"The pub will be full by the time we arrive," Haytham added in that voice that was meant to sound encouraging.

"Yes. Best to start making some acquaintances," Thor agreed.

The going down was more difficult, as slippery slopes so often were. This time they arranged themselves by weight, Sita in the back, so that they weren't risking a heavier person falling onto someone lighter. There were more than a few close calls all the same, and they all had unpleasantly wet feet by the time they reached the car.

Stepping back into the sunlight was like entering another world, as though they had crossed into Faerie and hadn't known until their return home. The others seemed affected as well, Thor noticed; perhaps it was a sign that they were on the right path, for them all to share that vague unease.

Haytham turned on the radio the moment the engine started and flipped through until he found something bright and brainless. Their conversation had a forced cheer as they drove the narrow road back to town.

At least his uncle had been right about the pub. They got the very last table, one meant for two but they made it work. A round of beers and the imminent arrival of hot food did much to lift their spirits, as did the warm smiles bestowed upon them when, after eating, they went to stand at the bar so someone else might sit down to eat.

"It's not that they aren't nice," Haytham had explained before Thor's first trip to Norway. "They _are_ nice, but it's part of their culture that they take more time to make friends than what you're used to. Don't get discouraged."

Thor had discovered it to be true, which made their reception now all the more promising. He fell into conversation with two men standing beside him, brothers, it turned out, one of them a hand on a fishing vessel and the other one an office worker in Trondheim.

"Not many Americans stay longer than it takes for a photograph at the station. Most of our tourists are Germans, come to enjoy the outdoors," said Magnus.

"We wanted to go somewhere different," Thor said in reply to the unspoken question. "The landscape around here is beautiful. We spent most of the day hiking."

Behind him, he could hear his aunt and uncle getting caught up in another conversation and he thanked them silently. The more people willing to chat with them, the better his chances at finding the answers he sought.

"Would you like another beer?" Anders asked.

"Thank you, I would."

Thor got the round after that, and Magnus was just ordering them another round when Haytham tapped his shoulder. "Do you mind if we take the car back? We old people cannot stay up so late."

"Of course not," Thor answered, laughing. He dug into his pocket and handed over the car key before wishing them goodnight.

He barely remembered the walk back to the guesthouse; he remembered nothing of falling into his bed, nothing more at all until the scratching at his window. He jumped up and fought his legs free of the tangling blankets and by the time he had the curtain shoved back... nothing. He swore to himself and went back to bed.

The following day had little to differentiate it, except that no raven crossed their path, and when they got to the pub they had smiling faces already waiting to greet them.

Thor left his curtains open when he went to bed that night. He had no difficulty falling asleep while it was light in his room. He would a hard time sleeping through sunrise, but that was a problem for morning, and with any luck, he'd have found whatever it was that kept scratching on his window before the growing light became an issue.

He woke with a rush of elation as the scratching noise filled the room, only to find that a heavy bank of clouds had rolled in and covered the moon, permitting no light by which he might see what was out there. By the time he crossed the floor to flip the light switch the noise had stopped and the sill was empty.

The third day they took a different road into the woods and at the pub that night Thor began working in a few leading questions about the town's history into his conversation. The answers he received were all maddeningly mundane. The next night they were even more frustrating, and worse still the night after that.

"They're not trying to hinder you," he told his reflection sternly before he went to bed. "They're nice. You just have to ask the right questions and remember not to push."

It didn't help at all that he had not yet slept through the night a single time. He was woken first by the scratching – still unsolved, and more frustrating by the minute – and then again when the sun began to rise, and he would have to get up and close the curtains.

"Are you going to start asking questions soon?" inquired Sita as they drove back into town following another failed day.

"I am, I promise. Believe me, it's eating me up, trying to be patient, but I don't want to ruin things by going too fast."

"I don't want to rush you, but my time here is halfway up. I must leave for my dig in another week," Haytham said.

Thor took a swing of beer. "I'll ask tomorrow."

He had been sleeping in his boxers, though he preferred to sleep nude. Whatever was out there, he felt less vulnerable with his tender bits beneath a layer of protection, thin as it was. Perhaps it was the unusual constriction that made him sleep fitfully; perhaps it was the awareness that tonight would be the night. And then came the scratching, waking him up. He bolted upright in bed and the moonlight revealed something dark and gleaming on the other side of the pane. It met his eyes and stretched its wings and uttered a harsh gravelly caw.

 


	25. A Lead

Ravens were clever birds. No doubt the last guest to stay in this room had been charmed by its boldness and given it treats, encouraging it to return. Perhaps it had been doing this a long time, each guest in turn unable to resist continuing the tradition. Thor had to admit, now that he knew it was something harmless, he could see the appeal. He had a few little packets of snacks. He found the one with muesli, which he figured would be alright for it to eat.

The bird jumped back when he swung open the window to sprinkle the food on the ledge. "Go on," he told it. It stared at him. "Fine. You shouldn't really be eating people food anyway."

It gazed back in a most unsettling manner before giving another rasping cry and flying to the nearest tree. Thor sighed and pulled on his shoes and bathrobe, but by the time he was at the front door of the hotel it was long gone.

 

It had been a full week now that Thor had been going to the pub, chatting with the locals, establishing some grounds of – not friendship, that was something that could take years somewhere like this – but amiability with the more outgoing of the group. It was impossible to make himself delay any longer.

"An old town like this, there must be some fascinating legends around. I'd love to hear some," he said to the room.

It was like flipping a light switch. All the cheer and warmth fled as people turned away from him, hunching over their beers and looking anywhere but at him. All except one. An old woman watched him with speculative eyes, but said no more than the others. Despite the hush that had fallen through the room it was her silence that made him squirm.

Well, the name of their town had to bring in some less-than-respectful tourists. Maybe they thought he was here to make fun of their stories. "I'm really interested in learning," he explained.

That didn't help at all. He decided to lay out... not all his cards, because that would involve talking about the book fragment and he wasn't really sure about the ethical or legal status of his continued possession of it. Not all his cards, then, but as many as he could.

"There's something here, something I'm meant to find. It's calling to me, it's been calling me for a long time but I just figured it out."

No one moved. They might as well have been carved of the same fragrant wood as the plank walls around them.

"Okay. Sorry. I'll go." Thor stood, resigned, and headed out into the night.

He was maybe twenty yards away when someone called to him. "Wait."

Thor stopped and looked back. It was the woman from the bar – _the_ woman, though there were others – and he turned to meet her. "You know something?" he asked her.

"As do they," she answered with a dismissive jerk of her head. "They're afraid to speak of it."

"But you are not."

"I am old. Age and experience change our fears."

"Then you will tell me."

"I will. Come." She took his arm and he let her draw him back down the road, past the pub, out onto the jetty. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was unstable and meaning to push him into the sea, which would mean a miserable climb up the stony breakwater and an even more miserable walk back to the guesthouse, when she raised her arm and pointed. "Do you see that low cloud?"

He looked. "I do."

"It is always there, no matter the weather. Beneath it is a narrow marine trench, far too deep for these waters, and in the middle of it, beneath those clouds, is the place you seek. Réaláholmen."

Thor paused, trying to figure it out. Holmen, he knew, was a small island, but... "I don't know Réalá."

"Two words, réa-lá. Old words, ancient. Réa means to irritate, to vex. Lá is... it's like the red in your cheeks, the warmth that keeps you alive. Oh, I don't know how to say what I mean."

"Vitality?"

"Yes, that. Vitality. Just like you."

Something irritating hardly sounded like it was worthy of the reaction his questions had received, but he held back his amusement. "And what is it on the island that is so vexatious?"

She smiled faintly. "No one knows. No one has returned in centuries to say. The last sailor to make it off alive was in the sixteenth century, and he so raved that no sense could be made of his words. If the thing you seek does lie within the reach of Hell, it is there you will find it."

"It is not so very far."

"Two hours, as long as your boat has a decent engine."

"Is there anyone who might rent to me? I cannot imagine, with the reception my questions received, that anyone would agree to take me out."

"The waters there are treacherous. No one would let you take their boat anywhere near, nor could you reach it were you to buy one for yourself. You need an experienced captain if you're to reach your goal."

It was maddening, to be so near, to be within sight, and be denied. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

He had not expected an answer, but she gave him one. "I will take you."

He frowned down at her. "After what you said about it? Why?"

"Call it the desire for one last adventure. Besides, I watched my husband die last year after six years' decline. By the end he..." She shook her head to clear it. "As I said, our experiences change what we fear."


	26. The Approach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, somebody please tell me they noticed the similarity Réalá bears to R'lyeh and were just distracted enough by something else to comment on it instead. I'm totally fine with being lied to on this.

They met at the docks at an hour that would have been painfully early were Thor's eagerness not even more painful to witness. Haytham and Sita had been woken not long before midnight by an excited pounding on their door and an even more excited nephew standing outside. 

"I've got it," he said. His eyes had a hectic gleam and he was making far too much noise. Haytham pulled him inside and closed the door. 

"Tell me what you think you've got," he said, yawning. Behind him Sita was sitting up, pulling a light robe about her shoulders.  

"I asked, straight out, like I said I would, and everyone clammed up. I mean, you could have heard a pin drop it went so silent. I _knew_ these people knew something, with all those judicious non-answers I kept getting so tonight I asked questions they couldn't dodge and they didn't even try. I _knew_ it, as soon as I saw that photo in my old album I knew it." Thor's voice was worrisome, as though he was almost ready to fall into hysterical laughter.  

Sita frowned. "But we are little closer, if they will not answer. I suppose we could go to the library in Trondheim and see if there are any old books that might be of use, but only your uncle knows the language well enough to read them." 

"We don't need to, aunt," Thor said, and he was openly laughing now. "I left the pub and a woman followed me. She knew what I meant and she will take us there in her boat. We are to meet her on the jetty at four-thirty." 

Haytham glanced over at the alarm clock. It was brass with white enamel and fat cheerful hands and seemed far too normal for the conversation happening beside it. "That is five hours from now." 

"I know. I'll go, I'll let you sleep. It's only I had to tell someone or I'd have burst." 

"Goodnight, Thor," Sita said pointedly. 

"Goodnight, aunt. Uncle." 

Haytham closed the door behind him and Sita turned off the light as he got back into bed. "What do you think of this development?" 

There was a sigh beside him. "I hope this woman does know something, and is not taking advantage of him. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve, right next to that very expensive watch." 

"That was my thought as well," Haytham agreed unhappily. He pulled her close and they clung to each other in hope and darkness. 

They rose at four and ate sandwiches on stale bread during the short drive to the sea. A woman was there waiting, older, with long wavy hair that still held traces of gold. She rose to her feet as the car approached. 

"Anne, may I introduce my Aunt Sita and my Uncle Haytham? Aunt, Uncle, this is Anne, who has offered to take us to the island." 

They shook hands and said their hellos before going out to the boat, where Anne passed out lifejackets to each of them, insisting upon satisfying herself as to the fit. Haytham was glad to see that she was at least concerned about that much, although it would hardly do for her to risk Thor drowning the day his check cleared. 

"I'm not taking any money," she told him. 

"I beg your pardon?" he stammered, wondering if he'd said his thoughts aloud in his tiredness. 

"You look suspicious, and I don't blame you. But I'm not taking his money. My only interest is in helping. And I've always been curious, myself." 

"I see. Thank you." 

She nodded and went to the front. It was a fishing vessel of moderate size, the sort with a bridge that is covered overhead but open to the rest of the boat. It belched a plume of exhaust into the air as the engine growled to life. 

"Where are we going?" Sita asked Thor as they pulled away from the dock. 

He pointed to the northwest. "You see that cloud?" He continued at her nod. "Beneath it there is a deep trench and an island that the sailors avoid. That was what they wouldn't discuss with me." 

"I don't see an island," said Haytham. 

"No. The clouds are too heavy," Thor agreed. 

The morning air here was always crisp and now, over the water, Haytham shivered. He sat hunched over upon himself, eyes never leaving their destination. They traveled for an hour, Anne giving Sita and Thor supervised turns at the wheel, taking it back when they entered spans of choppiness. 

Nearly another hour had passed before she turned to address them. "Would you like to see something amazing? I suspect it is somehow related to your search, though how, I don't know." 

"Of course we would," Thor answered, taking his feet. 

"That's the depth sounder," she said, tapping her nails on the glass face of an instrument to her right. "Keep an eye on it. We're almost to the trench I told you of." 

Haytham and Sita came up to stand beside him and watch. It was a digital display, the numbers flickering up and down, hovering right about six hundred meters.  

Two things happened at once; they passed from sunlight into shadow as the boat went beneath the heavy cloud, and the numbers on the sounder changed too quickly to read until it froze on 1999. 

"That's as far down as it reads. Nowhere near enough for a ship conducting oceanic exploration, but for a fjord, well...it ought to be more than enough. Far more. I've never gone this far over it before." 

The clouds were so thick that the island was little more than a tenebrous silhouette, but that was enough to discern that it rose up steeply to the northeast and more gently on the southwest, and the peak, rather than coming to a point, was almost perfectly flat. 

Haytham still was not ready to relinquish his skepticism, but there was no denying the thrill running through his veins as the island loomed larger with every minute. 

They were drawing near, only two or three minutes away at their current speed, close enough to make out the details of the dark rock despite the gloom of the clouds. Now they could see that what had appeared to be a smooth face was covered in craters and crags, perfect for the nests of seabirds. It should have been covered with them, offering as it did so many places of safety and such a bounty of fish in the waters all around, but Haytham searched in vain for a single flash of wings. He refused to believe it and his eyes scanned back and forth, seeking signs of life. 

Sita was the one who looked behind them. "What's that?" she asked. 

Anne turned to glance over her shoulder. "Shit. Hold on." 


	27. Ashore

It happened so quickly that once she was sprawled out, coughing saltwater onto the dark pebbly beach, Sita's mind showed her only jumbled scraps of memory. Her hands grabbing on to the rail. Struggling to right herself in the icy water. Something huge slamming against the ship. Anne telling them to hold on. The feel of merciful, blessed solid beneath her feet. The sickening sound of wood splintering. Haytham shouting her name...

Haytham. She forced her aching body to roll over, to sit up and ignore the pain that came with turning her head to look around, searching for him. To her right she found nothing but rocks, polished by tide and time into perfect smoothness. Looking to the left hurt more but she did it and there – thanks to the day-glo shade of the life vests – she saw them. Three figures, unmoving, still halfway in the water.

She made herself go. As her mind cleared, _pain_ resolved itself into specific pains and she could feel now how it hurt to breathe, how the twist in her torso to look down the beach had hurt on her left side just below her armpit. Pressing her hands to the ground to stand up was agony.

At least it was a rib, rather than a leg, that she had broken, she thought as she picked her hurried way down the beach. As long as it didn't burst a lung she'd be alright, and she didn't feel anything sharp. Thor was closest to her and he was beginning to stir as she drew near. Haytham was beyond him, unmoving, and it took all her will to stop by Thor but Haytham was dangerously near the edge of the water and she wouldn't be able to pull him out alone.

She knelt beside him and he blinked up at her. "Aunt? What happened?"

"We were hit by... something, I don't know what. I looked back and saw something huge coming towards us. I suppose we should be grateful that at least it pushed us towards land, rather than away. Are you able to move?"

She waited as he tested his limbs, rolled his head from side to side, and sat up. "I feel strange. Can you be dizzy without things spinning?"

"Something like it. Your uncle is too near the sea, do you think you can help me move him?"

"I think so." He took her hand and tried to stand before settling to his knees. "My head is too light to walk. Which way is he? I can crawl."

It was a terrible idea for him to move, she knew that perfectly well, but there was nothing else for it. "To your right, about ten meters."

She walked beside him as he crawled and she was grateful anew for the smoothness of the rocks. They got to Haytham and found him unconscious but breathing.

"Isn't it dangerous to move him?" asked Thor. "I thought with possible head injuries you're supposed to keep them still. We have a little time before the tide comes up to him. If you sit with him I'll go check on Anne."

Sita nodded. She was not surprised that her eyes were dry; she always had been good at holding herself together until things were over and she could let go. There would be time enough for tears when he didn't need her watching over him, for good or ill. She sat down beside him and began stroking his hair.

A crunching sound some minutes later told of Thor's return. She looked up to find him walking shakily, one hand on Anne's shoulder for balance. "How is he?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Still breathing alright, but... nothing."

"I think we'd better get him higher up," Anne said. "I don't know what that was that hit us, but if it was a rogue wave another one could wash him out too fast for us to do anything."

Thor looked down and sighed. "I'm not sure I can walk and carry him, but if you two can pull him onto my back and keep him balanced I think I can crawl with him up the slope."

It was awkward and more than once Sita moved in a way that had her blinded and retching with pain, but together they got him safely away from the water, well past the line of rotting seaweed that marked high tide. She sat with him while Thor and Anne walked up and down the shoreline, hunting for anything that might be of use. Their vests had emergency flares hanging from them, but the nights were so short they could hardly count on being found before some time had passed. That meant fresh water was their first priority and shelter, even if nothing more than a shallow cave in the menacing stone, was next.

Sita didn't start crying until Haytham woke up.

"Is it that bad?" he asked anxiously.

"No. Not at all," she answered, wiping at her face.

He was sitting up by the time the others returned, tired and weak but giving her the smile that had won her heart.

"We found a cave with a stream running to the sea. It tasted sweet, so I think it's safe," Thor said. "Not that we have a choice."

The cave was low-ceilinged but large, the back extending far into the darkness. By silent agreement they settled down just inside the mouth. Haytham sprawled on his stomach, drinking furiously. Sita, unable to mimic his pose, had to settled for a cupped hand. While they sated their thirst Anne and Thor went out to collect seaweed for their dinners and their pillows.

Cold set in well before night fell and the four of them curled together to save their heat, and the blessing of physical exhaustion carried them to sleep.

The first thing she was aware of, upon waking, was how uncomfortable her bed was. The next thing was the spear against her throat.


	28. Into the Island

Haytham ignored the racing of his heart, ordering his mind to focus on studying their new captors, looking for any clues, any weakness. He would have found them short even if he were not a tall man. The men were perhaps Sita's height and the women even shorter. Individually, he might not have noticed their head shape, but seeing them as a group, it was unmistakable: the long skull, the prominent ridge at the brow and a tall wide nose below, and chins so short they almost melted into the neck. The hands that held the spears were short with square, stubby fingers. The hair, varying shades of sandy brown, would have been straight had it been kept clean and unmatted. His undergraduate classes in anthropological archaeology had been a very long time ago but now it was like he was right back in the darkened lecture hall, the slide projector humming quietly behind him, looking at drawings of Neanderthals.

He was still studying them, fascinated, when Anne spoke, her voice calm and steady as she asked why they were being treated so. The faces of their new captors remained as impassive as if she had said nothing. Thor tried next, though why he thought they might be more likely to respond to English, Haytham couldn't fathom, unless he was banking on the size of the speaker getting a reaction that words did not. Likely it was instinct borne of exhaustion that propelled him.

There was one without a spear, the leader, Haytham presumed. Now he gestured roughly, indicating they were to stand. Sita's movements were cautious, her face going tight with pain when her body moved in certain ways. With her so nearly incapacitated it made Haytham even more grateful to see that Thor was moving more easily this morning, despite having slept on the unforgiving rock. Having two of them able-bodied meant more chances to fight back. There was no fighting back now, though, not with the blades hovering mere centimeters from their throats. They stood, still and patient, as their hands were bound behind them and blindfolds tied around their heads.

Haytham was shoved forwards and he took a step to keep from falling. "Are they moving all of us?" he asked.

"I am being moved," said Sita.

"And me," said Thor.

"And me," Anne echoed. "I suppose that's something, at least."

They were taken deeper into the cave, their footfalls echoing through the chamber and the rancid stench of their torches filling his nose.

His senses were alive, seeking out every nuance, every clue that might serve to lead them out... though to what, he could not say. Their only real hope of rescue now was that bits of Anne's broken boat, or her unexpected absence from town, might trigger a search party. It wasn't much but it was all they had and so he kept his mind on what he could control.

The ground here sloped down at perhaps fifteen degrees and the hall was fifty-seven paces long before the changing echoes said they had entered another cave. His mind was likely exaggerating the angle, due to the blindfold, so probably ten degrees, and his steps would be shorter, so probably fifty paces. The cavern they entered had a flat floor and to his left there was the sound of dripping water followed by the sound of stumbling and then Sita gave a cry of pain.

Haytham growled. "If you hurt her-" he began.

"It's alright," she told him. "I tripped and they bumped my rib in catching me. That's all."

It was the sort of thing she might say to stop him from doing something stupid, but thinking that made him recognize that it _would_ have been stupid to act and so he allowed himself to believe her. "Very well," he answered.

He tracked and counted far beyond what he had any hope of remembering but he kept going because it was the only thing he could do other than give up and he was not willing to do that. They walked for what had to be hours, thirst a menace that grew every minute, it seemed, until a hand on his shoulder ordered him to stop. The footfalls of the others fell silent at the same time. He stood as still as he could, ears sharp to catch any sounds beyond the thumping of his own heart.

His hands were freed but his blindfold left in place, and then there was more walking, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged, and then a thud.

"Are we alone?" Thor asked.

Haytham reached up and uncovered his eyes to find that they were in such darkness he might as well have kept it. "I think so. It sounded like the right number of people leaving."

"I agree," came Anne's voice.

"The first thing to do is figure out, as best we can, where we are, what space we're in," said Sita. "If you don't mind, I don't think I can move anymore, so what I propose is that the three of you use me as a base and walk away from me, each of you one hundred and twenty degrees apart. Walk until you meet the wall, counting your paces, and then go to the right, following the wall. Keep talking to me and I'll keep you positioned in my head and stop you when you reach the point where your neighbor started."

"Would it not be better to stay together? We don't know when they're coming back, or what they have planned for us," Thor pointed out.

"In most situations I would agree, but as we have so little information our only weapon is to learn what we can."

"I vote we follow the military historian's tactics," said Haytham.

"Thank you, dear."

"Of course, dear."

"I guess that makes sense. Are you okay with it, Anne?" asked Thor.

"I am."

They walked towards her and she positioned each of them in turn, equidistant, facing out into the unknown.

"Okay. Go," Sita said.

Haytham walked cautiously, sweeping his feet rather than taking steps, feeling for drops and hurdles. There was nothing until he met a wall, twenty-two steps away from Sita. He called out a report, she repeated it, and he began moving towards the right. A few seconds later Anne reached the wall and made her turn. Thor's wall was farthest away, but he was the first to find something of interest.

"A door! I can feel the outline." The others remained still, listening, while he inspected it. "There's no knob..." He slammed his body against it, his quiet grunts filling the cavern. At last he sighed. "It won't give. We're trapped."


	29. Deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm headed off to eclipse-land for a few days! As long as the cell towers aren't overloaded I'll be posting as normal but may not be replying to comments until I get home.

Thor had no idea how long they were left in there before the door opened and six of their captors entered. Two of them carried spears which they pointed at the prisoners, warning them to remain still, while three others set down two crudely made pots followed by a stack of equally crude bowls. The last of them carried a torch, and she, along with the two spearbearers, remained while the others disappeared into the dark corridor. 

The spears were raised to the ceiling and their ravenous party rushed to see what had been left for them. One pot held water and the other a strong-smelling broth with unsettling bits of green floating in it. Thor's stomach tossed and growled at the same time. 

"I'm having my soup first. I think I'll want the water to wash it down," he said uncertainly. 

"Yes. I will as well," Sita said. 

The broth turned out to contain rubbery boiled limpets, their dead bodies still clinging to their shells, paired with bits of what seemed like a root, and slimy strands of seaweed. It tasted worse than it sounded and the texture was even worse than the flavor and together they emptied the pot, Haytham eating Sita's limpets and giving her his root chunks. Anne watched them with a look of melancholy and Thor thought of her lost husband. 

At least the water was good. They had forced down all the soup before they turned to the water, aware how much worse the food would taste once they had had something better. 

"Should we save some for later, or not?" Thor asked. His thirst was sated, and on the one hand it seemed sensible to ration it out, not knowing when they might be given more, but on the other, there was the risk of it – or them – being taken from the room before they had drunk it all.  

Anne echoed that thought. "This seems more like a storage room than a prison. Look how they're guarding the door. However they blocked it before, it was a lot of work. I don't think we're going to be kept here long." 

"I agree," said Haytham. "I think we ought to drink it all now, while we can." 

Perhaps they could have waited, for it was right when they finished their last precious sips that the guards roused them and set them to a march. Five more guards, along with two more torch carriers, fell in behind them and they began to make their way through an impossible maze of intersecting halls and caverns that abutted with sharp crags of rock surrounding the gaps between them.  

The worst part by far was when they came into a room that would have been a dead end but for a gap at floor-level that was both short and narrow. One of their guards went first, settling down on his back and pushing himself through with his feet, arms overhead carrying his torch. A second one followed before the lowering of spears ordered them through.  

"That wiggling won't do your ribs any good," Haytham told Sita. 

She set her jaw. "It's that or get speared. I can do it." 

"If I go first and pull your right arm..." Thor suggested. 

"And I can remain behind and push your feet," Haytham agreed.  

She nodded. "Very well. That is what we will do." 

Thor laid down with his head just inside the opening and tilted it back to take a look at where he was going. "The top looks chiseled out. I think they must have enlarged it. I can't imagine what it was like before." Despite his childhood attachment to living in New York, he'd always felt most comfortable in wide open spaces, and he'd had more than one attack of claustrophobia in his life. Now he was grateful for every spare inch that had been chipped out. He gave them an encouraging smile and planted his feet. 

At least it was far shorter than he'd feared. He'd had visions of having to go back in to pull his aunt after him, but it couldn't have been more than a few inches longer than his own height. He emerged into a chamber of dizzying vastness. The guards had lit a new set of torches and Thor could see the ground beneath his feet and the wall from which he had emerged and then... nothing. Utter blackness, like standing at the edge of a void. Sita's face was grim when he pulled her through, but she managed to give him a tight-jawed smile as she stood to wait for the others.

It was unsettling to walk through such darkness. They clustered near the torchbearers by instinct, keeping themselves inside the small ring of light. The floor had an unnatural smoothness that Thor was certain was the only thing keeping his feet from becoming covered in blisters. Even without them every step came with another flare of heat in the soles as his weight settled down upon them.  

Anne began to fall behind and one of the guards gave her a rough push between her shoulders. Thor paused and knelt in front of her. "Climb on, hurry," he told her, and she scrambled up his back and he was moving again before they had a chance to push him in turn.  

"Might I offer you a ride?" Haytham asked Sita with a gallant flourish. 

"I think it would hurt more to be carried than to walk, but thank you." 

Thor carried Anne as long as he could. When he had to put her down she walked as long as she could, and then he carried her again. After so long walking it became hypnotic, each step another swing of the mesmerist's pocket watch, left, right, left, right.  

Just as the fugue was making him feel he might be able to walk forever, they came to a set of steps and broad arms were flung out to stop their progress. The torches were raised and Thor looked up to see what was atop the steps. It was a throne carved out of the living rock, and sitting in it staring down at them was a lean man with gray-green eyes. 

 


	30. Introductions

The way he sat made Thor think of a pear that had been left too long: like he had once been proud, erect, the wide stance of his feet domineering and the tilt of his head imperious, and that he had not slouched but decayed into his present attitude and was now held together by a sack of skin, a mockery of his former state. And yet he was undeniably beautiful, with long jetty locks that would have disappeared into the cavern's darkness but for the play of torchlight upon them. Fine high cheekbones, chiseled as perfectly as the throne upon which he slumped. A generous nose above thin and expressive lips. His lean body was admirably displayed by his rough clothing made of the same peculiar rust-and-green material as that worn by their captors. He could not have been much older than Thor and almost certainly younger, and yet he bore an air of ancientness and decay. A paradox. A mystery. Thor's heart began to race.

The man's lips parted and a noise like rust on rust escaped them. He frowned and tried again. This time it almost had the sound of speech, and on his third attempt he was just intelligible.

"Who are you?" he rasped.

Thor was more than a little tempted to point out that as he was the one keeping them captive, he ought to be the one identifying himself, but he was too excited to risk giving offense. This, this was what he'd been seeking, the answer to the question of his life.

"My name is Haytham, and this is my wife," said his uncle. It was not like him not to introduce Sita by name and Thor couldn't help but feel it was meant to protect her.

"Sita," said his aunt. She was never one to want protecting.

"And I am Anne. My boat was destroyed by a rogue wave, leaving us stranded here."

"And you?" He asked, turning his unsettling gaze to Thor.

Thor's stomach knotted. These next few seconds could be everything. He knew, without a doubt, that this strange man was the key, the answer to all his questions. "My name is Thor." He took a breath, bracing himself for whatever was about to come.

"Why are you here?"

That was not what Thor had expected, but... had that blank stare settled on him just a little longer, focused a little more, before the next question was asked?

"We were stranded. There are emergency flares on our life jackets. If you would let us return to the shore, we could signal for help," Anne said patiently.

It was the last thing Thor wanted; his whole life had led to this moment, this place, but he could hardly condemn her for not sharing his bone-deep yearning to remain. It was with selfish gratitude that he received the man's reply. "No one leaves," he said. He sounded bewildered by the thought.

"I am here to fulfill a prophecy," Thor announced. "My friends and family have come to aid me."

"Ffff..." the man tried.

He seemed unable to form the words and Thor felt a sudden desire to help him, to climb the broken steps to the throne and press gentle fingers to the pale lips, to help them move. "My family, my aunt and uncle. And my friend Anne," he said, making the words slow and exaggerated.

"Family."

"Yes. Do you have a family?"

"I suppose I must."

"Are you aware of the prophecy?" Haytham interrupted, sharing neither Thor's patience nor his fascination.

"I'm here."

"What does that mean? Is it a yes?" demanded his uncle.

"I'm here."

A faint edge of distress was bubbling up into his voice at Haytham's questions and Thor interrupted in a soothing voice. "May we ask who you are, now that we have introduced ourselves?" he asked gently.

"Of course. I am... I'm..." He stammered painfully, seeking the words, as though thought itself was an underused muscle. "I don't remember," he said at last.

"You don't remember who you are?" Haytham demanded.

The vague eyes swam to his uncle. "I think I am waiting."


	31. A Strange Conversation

He was a study in contradictions and Thor could not help but be fascinated. A man who sat upon a high throne and was surrounded by unspeaking servants of such devotion that they could be commanded by the flash of an eye or the wave of a finger, eating grilled fish with his bare hands and carelessly letting the water run down his chin as he drank from an earthenware cup. Thor sat next to him and found it a struggle to eat with more decorum when it had to have been so long since they had eaten even vaguely palatable food. Even Sita ate some fish, her face twisted in disgust. "The first rule is to survive," she explained grimly. After Thor had sated the worst of his hunger, he reached over and, lacking anything better, dried the man's chin with his sleeve.

The room they were in for their meal was a small one to the right of the throne. A fireplace in one corner was tended by silent figures who cooked fish after fish while others brought them to the table. Two servants did nothing but refill their cups, cycling between the table and the doorway where they were given filled pots of water for their empty ones.

"Thank you. It has been a long time since our last meal," Thor said when they had somehow managed to eat their fill. It earned him a vague smile and emboldened him to make a request. "Might we be moved to another room? The last one given us was very cold and dark."

"You don't like those things."

"It's not the most comfortable thing, no."

"I forget. It is so rare I need to see."

"So you can give us other rooms?" Thor prompted.

"I will have you moved to better rooms. I ask your forgiveness, I am... unaccustomed to hospitality."

"Thank you," Thor said.

The man bowed his head and gave a signal to his servants. They were neither bound nor blindfolded before the silent guards led them out of the massive chamber and through one of the many identical archways into the branching halls. A series of doors lined the hall and they stopped at the first to gesture Anne inside. She gave them a nervous smile and stepped inside. Thor felt the tension in his muscles ease when the guards moved the rest of them on without closing – and more importantly, without locking – her door.

Sita was given the next and Haytham entered with her. The guards looked at each other in faint confusion before shrugging among themselves and giving Thor the third room. He left his door open and from the echoes coming from the hallway, it seemed the others had as well. He kept one ear cocked as he explored his new room. Were the ceiling any lower he would have had to stoop, but it helped hold in the warmth of the fire that crackled merrily at the far side of the room. A tunnel – a chimney – was hollowed straight upwards into the rock above it, carrying away the smoke. A deep niche was carved into the opposite wall and in it was a thick layer of rushes for a mattress. Beyond the fire was a doorway and he peered inside. A rough lidded pot was in one corner, its purpose unmistakable due to the absence of anywhere else to relieve himself. A stream poured through a small gap in the rock, filling a swirling pool, and then continuing on. Everything in the room was crudely but effectively made and after washing his face and hands he fell gratefully into the bed.

Thor's sleep was restless, fitful with dreams he only half-remembered when he woke. There was a snake, unimaginably large, and fire, so much fire. It seared across the sky as he wrestled with the monstrous creature, its body coiling around him, squeezing, and his own arms plunging over and over into its side, tearing away huge swaths of gore as he frantically sought its spine, desperate to crush the massive bones before his own gave way...

He woke covered in sweat so cold that when he sank into the stream that fed his bath it felt almost warm against his skin.

Standing before the fire to dry himself off felt blissful. After days spent in the same salt-water-soaked clothing he had stopped noticing quite how terrible it felt, but now that he was clean and dry the thought of putting them back on made him shudder. When he resigned himself to it, though, he found them gone and in their place a set of the same garments worn by the guards. He took them to the fire to inspect them more closely and found they were woven from thin strips of a pliable, rubbery material. It took him longer to realize it was seaweed. Not what he would normally have called comfortable, but at least they were clean. He put them on and soon the guards came to take them to the dining room.

"Did you sleep well?" Thor asked the others as they walked.

"Not as well as I'd have liked," said Sita.

Haytham nodded. "Nor did I. It's this place, it seems impossible to sleep well."

"I feel like I'm still dreaming. I was so tired, I'm not sure I'm awake," Anne said.

"You are fortunate," replied Thor.

The man was waiting at the table when they arrived and there were more fish being cooked. Thor reminded himself to be grateful it wasn't limpet soup.

"I'm curious about your servants," Haytham said as they ate. "Have they been with you long?"

"A while. How long is long?"

"Several years," replied Haytham.

"Mmm. More than that, I think."

"And how did you find them? They seem a unique group of people."

"I think they found me. Yes, that's right. I was here and then they came."

Thor watched him speaking, the sensuous lips forming each word so carefully, how they lilted with joy when he remembered. He could tell, just from looking, how soft they would be beneath his own curious fingers.

His uncle's voice interrupted his reverie. "They are a very distinctive group of people. I assume it is an extended family?"

"They breed, yes."

Haytham was getting at something, that much was clear, but what it was he wouldn't say. He kept asking questions and the man kept trying to answer but giving no satisfaction.

The yearning was boiling up inside Thor's chest, threatening to overwhelm him, and not just to touch the man's lips anymore; to feel his skin, to be near him, to wash his pale skin and brush his inky hair and stroke him into ecstasy and drink his cries of pleasure. He was so clearly unwell and Thor felt a pang of guilt at feeling such a vehement desire for him but it was so strong it had to be a part of what he had come here to do, and magic, or whatever this was... it never seemed to follow human laws. So Thor set aside his guilt and resolved to follow wherever his quest might lead.

Nor, it seemed, was it him alone who felt it. When the guards appeared to escort them back to their rooms, the man spoke once again. "No, Thor, don't go. I want you to stay with me."


	32. Frustration

Being with Thor made him feel strange. Being alone with Thor made the feeling even stranger. Inside his stomach jumped about as though his fish were still alive when he'd eaten them and he was sure it was not normal for his heart to thud like this. On the outside his skin was too tight and he had the most peculiar urge to put his skin next to Thor's. He felt like he needed to put his hands on Thor's face and Thor's body or something horrible would happen to him, like his heart would go faster and his skin would get tighter until he exploded. Thor made him feel good and awful all at once. His brain was all tangled up and he couldn't get it straight no matter how hard he tried.

"Why do you make me feel different?" he demanded.

"Different from what?"

"Different from everything." He looked down at the fingers curling in his lap. "You make me want to put my hands on you. To see what your skin feels like. I want to be near you. What are you doing to make me feel like this?"

"You make me feel like that, too. It's not something I meant to do. It happens when two people are drawn to one another."

"Drawn to each other. Yes, that is it. I think I remember that. But..." He wracked his brain, rummaging through fog and dust in a futile search for _something,_ but he could not find it and he pounded his fists on his legs and gave a cry of frustration. "I don't remember what to do with it."

Thor took a step closer and took hold of his hands, coaxing him to his feet. "It usually starts with something like this," he said, and then Thor's mouth touched his and he would have thought it to be disgusting but it wasn't. He imagined touching his mouth to the mouths of Thor's companions and that he did not like. It was only Thor whose mouth he wanted pressed against his own. The realization made a soft noise happen in his throat and Thor brushed gentle fingers against his cheek.

Thor drew back and he moved after him but Thor held him still, making him listen. "If you don't remember what you like, we'll figure it out together," Thor said gently. "Do you think you would like that?"

"Yes, that. That is what I want," he replied, and Thor must have liked that answer because he touched his mouth with his again. Thor moved it different ways, back and forth, rubbing their lips together, catching his bottom lip between his own and pulling lightly. That surprised him and made him laugh and then that made Thor laugh too.

"You like that?" Thor's lips were still touching his as he talked and it tickled.

"I like it."

"Maybe you will like this, as well."

Thor's lips parted and his tongue came out and touched his lips and it didn't even sicken him to have his lips licked which he would have thought it would. Thor's fingers pressed gently on his jaw until he opened it and Thor put his tongue inside his mouth and even that wasn't disgusting. He touched it with his own, a tentative probing that made Thor make a rumbling noise. It seemed like a happy sound and it made Thor's lips buzz pleasantly against his own and so he tried it again. Yes, Thor liked that and he liked it as well. Touching lips was good and touching tongues was good and so he tried putting his tongue in Thor's mouth. It was hot and wet just like his own mouth but it was also different and exciting. Thor was stroking his tongue gently with his own and it felt like his body was melting inside and he jerked away in shock.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked. His voice was shaky again like when they had first arrived and he'd had to remember how to talk.

"It's called a kiss. I'm sorry. I thought you wanted..."

"What is it for?"

"For?" Thor blinked. "To feel good, I suppose. I never thought about it like that before."

"And that's all?"

"Well, how we're drawn together? It's... it's a way of satisfying that, more than just being near each other. Have you never?"

He looked in his head for an answer. He knew it was there, but finding it... oh, there were so many things in there that were lost. "I might have. I think so. It's been so very long."

"May I ask your age?" Thor spoke tentatively. "You look no older than me. I'd have guessed younger. How long have you been here?"

So many lost things. He wanted to scream and cry and hit the walls but that would not help him find them.


	33. Separation

They had been led back to their rooms while Thor stayed in the dining room with their peculiar captor. Haytham didn't like it at all; he didn't trust the man even as far as he could throw him, and it seemed a bad idea to split up. Thor clearly did not share his apprehensions, though, and Haytham was reluctant to speak his mind in the man's hearing.

Thor didn't return for hours, and when he came he bore a strange tension in his shoulders, as though he carried a weight he didn't yet know was there. A pot of limpet soup was brought and they sat together in Anne's room, which was slightly warmer, and whispered over their distasteful meal.

"He's crazy," Haytham said flatly.

"He's... not normal, I'll give you that," Thor allowed, "but I think there's more to it. It's like in fairy tales, how fairies act in ways the humans don't understand until later, but there's always a reason behind it. It's all a matter of figuring it out. And when I find his answer I'll find mine as well. I know it, I can feel it."

Sita sighed. "At least stay on your guard. He's far too fascinated by you, and he's not safe."

Thor met her eyes. "I'm starting to think maybe I'm not, either."

_Still so young,_ Haytham thought. "Just say you'll be careful."

"I will, uncle. I promise."

The rubbery limpets sat heavily in their stomachs. Haytham had eaten Sita's again, but between the fish and the over-salted broth she was no better off than the rest of them, and they went to their beds not long after finishing the food.

In the morning – or what served for morning, in this Stygian world - they washed and dressed and then once again clustered in Anne's room for company. More stew was brought and this time when the guards came to take away the pot, they gestured to Thor that he was to go with them.

Sita rose and, despite her injury, tried to place herself in the middle. Were he not so worried himself Haytham would have smiled to see the caution that sprang up on their faces.

"It's alright, aunt," Thor said. "Don't hurt yourself trying to protect me."

She stepped reluctantly to the side. "Come back safely. If they harm so much as one hair on your head-"

"I'll be fine. Look, there's no threat this time. They're not armed."

Haytham took her hand and they stood in silence, watching him go. "He's right about one thing, at least," he murmured. "They're letting their guard down. That means we might be able to go explore. We should see everything we can. When there's a chance to get out, we'll need to know which way to run."

"But Thor..."

"He'll come to his senses eventually, once he comes to understand there's no mystery here beyond the fact that we're being kept prisoner by a madman."

"The guards are a mystery," Anne interrupted, "and their silence is the least of it."

"If it weren't impossible, I'd say they look like- but it's impossible."

"Like what?" asked Sita.

"Some earlier homonid. Homo erectus, or even Neanderthals. But as I said, it's impossible."

"This is an isolated island," Anne pointed out.

"But still, the population is far too small. I'm not saying no homonids made it out here, but they didn't stay. If nothing else, they'd have inbred themselves into extinction."

Sita shook her head. "I think there used to be far more people here. We passed a number of other tunnels just like this one, the same low ceilings and wide entries. I think they all used to be bed chambers like these."

"Only one way to know for sure," said Anne.

"We'll get started on figuring the layout of this place, as well. And perhaps we'll even find Thor," Sita added.

The guards hovered uneasily, but there was only one passage they were blocked from entering. A half-burnt stick from the fire gave enough charcoal to draw a line on the walls as they went, ensuring they'd find their way back. They wandered until thirst demanded their return.

They did not find Thor. Nor did they find a way out.


	34. Sweet Things

That night he dreamed of guilt, a game he took too far and couldn't take back. The clash of swords as he fought, the sadness even though it was his enemy he slew. Guilt and mistakes and sorrow. He woke with horror still racing through his veins.

It had to have been Thor making these things come into his head, asking questions, his kisses stirring up these strange emotions. Or maybe it was their parting that had given him these terrible dreams. Maybe he needed to be near Thor even in his sleep now if he wished it to be peaceful. He signaled one of his servants to find Thor and return with him. He was just tightening the laces of his favorite shirt, the rust color so dark it was almost purple, when Thor appeared.

"You sent for me," he said.

"Yes. I want to show you things." Thor had said he had come here to find things and he had to be kept interested so he would not go. He would take Thor to the hall with the marks and those would interest him. He took a torch from the wall and the two of them walked together. Partway there Thor fit the fingers of their hands together, just like how he liked to do when he sat by himself. It felt different with Thor's hand, the fingers shorter and broader. He liked it this way.

"Oh," Thor breathed when they reached the first hall. There were handprints and hand outlines and funny things with four legs and horns and pictures of people and then other things like piles of sticks that made no sense at all, and it was those to which Thor seemed most drawn.

"What are those?" he asked, coming up to peer over Thor's shoulder.

"They look almost like runes, but none I've ever seen."

"What are runes?"

"A form of writing. -A way of making words that can be seen instead of heard," Thor explained. "Different shapes mean different sounds, if you understand them."

"And do you?" 

"No. Each kind must be learned anew."

"Oh." That was a disappointment. If these things meant nothing to Thor, he could not trust them to hold his interest. "Would you like to see something else?"

Thor smiled." I would like to see whatever you wish to show me."

He took Thor's hand and led him through the maze of tunnels, deeper and deeper into the mountain, until they spilled out into the open place at the center. Thor blinked at the sudden sunshine and raised his hand to shield his eyes.

He laughed and drew Thor out into the trees. "This is what you make me feel like," he said.

"Are those apples?" Thor asked.

_Yes._ Yes, yes, yes, they were apples, that was the word, yes, he'd forgotten but now he remembered, Thor was making him remember all sorts of things, it was so easy to get angry when he didn't have words anymore but now Thor was giving them back. "Yes. Apples. Yellow ones," he offered.

Thor smiled at him. "Are they good?"

"Oh, yes," he said earnestly. He wanted to make Thor smile at him again. "Do you like them?"

"An apple would be _amazing_ right now."

"Here." He reached up and plucked two of them, shiny and yellow like Thor's hair. He gave one to Thor and watched him eat. His red lips parting, straight white teeth pressing to the skin, biting in and his eyes falling shut and that noise he made when the juice hit his tongue...

He didn't remember his body doing that before but somehow he knew what it wanted. That had to be Thor, as well. He took a bite of his own apple, trying to make it look as pretty as Thor had done. Thor's eyes were on his mouth and he was stabbed with pleasure at the thought. He looked down and Thor's body was doing the same thing and he wanted to see it, to feel it, to touch it with his own. Thor had to want that too but he was playing a game, eating his whole apple first so he did that also and they dropped the cores and kissed again and when they pressed together he could feel Thor's hardness against his stomach.

"I want to do things besides kiss," he whispered.

Thor made a noise that sounded like a question without any words and he started touching his neck with his lips and that made him make the same noise and he laughed because he was so happy. Thor's hands came up to unlace his tunic but Thor wasn't used to these clothes and so he did it for him, casting aside his own and then unlacing Thor's. Their kilts were easier and he let Thor do those and then the sunlight was all over their skin, feeling exactly the way the apples tasted.

There was grass between the trees, thick and soft, and they lay down together facing each other. He wanted to touch Thor's body everywhere and Thor lay still, smiling gently, letting him explore. Thor's arms were huge beside his own. His stomach was firm like his, but it had lumps where his was smooth and beyond them was his thing and here too Thor had a lump, right at the end, where his was smooth. The length of it was nice for fitting a hand around it, his long fingers just touching. That made Thor make the noise again which made him remember what he had wanted to do. He let go of Thor's thing to take hold of his own and rubbed them together.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Thor told him. "Do you like it?"

He nodded and rubbed harder, tip to tip where it felt the best, but it was frustrating because he couldn't get it quite right and while his hand felt good holding himself he couldn't do the same for Thor and he was starting to get upset when Thor stilled him with a hand on his wrist.

"Can we try something else?" Thor asked.

He nodded again and Thor moved his hand away and reached around his waist, pulling him close with a broad hand on his lower back. Their things were together, pressed tight between their stomachs, and then Thor started rocking his hips. "Try moving like this," he suggested.

He tried it and it felt good, rubbing against Thor's lumpy stomach right where he was most sensitive, Thor's rubbing alongside his own. Their skin got slick and for an instant he feared he was wetting himself but Thor seemed unconcerned, giving him an encouraging smile when his eyes flared in panic. He relaxed after that, and the slickness felt even better and he closed his eyes to let himself go.

He was getting close to _something_ , he could tell, and he didn't know what it was but he wanted it, and he moved faster, chasing it, until a grating noise overhead startled him. He opened his eyes to find two big black things jumping among the trees. "What are those?" he asked, pointing.

Thor looked up. "They're ravens. Don't worry, they won't bother us."

"Oh." There was something about them, something he knew he should know but it hurt to think and Thor was making him feel so good. Thor was close to it, too, he could tell. His eyes were dark and his body felt tense just like his own did and he wanted to watch first but he couldn't make himself wait and then it hit.

He had felt this before, this same blissful release, the blaze of white behind his eyes and everything going tense and melting all at once and with it was the memory of voices. His own, crying out wordlessly, and another. The thrill of knowledge suffused him as he heard it speak his name. He wanted to tell Thor right away, that instant, but Thor was so close now, eyes squeezed tight and his fingers biting into his hips and his breath coming in pants and gasps and then his body was going stiff and jerking and he was moaning and spilling across his skin.

When his eyes opened he gave a contented smile. "That felt good."

He smiled back. "Thor?" he said shyly.

"Yes?"

"My name is Loki."

Thor kissed his lips and this time instead of making him hard in his cock it made him feel soft in his insides. "It's nice to meet you, Loki."

Above them, the ravens jumped and cawed.


	35. Exploring

Thor woke from a brief nap filled with more of the strange and troubling dreams to find himself alone in a wide bed and sat up, looking around. The fire in here smelled different, sweeter, and the flames were lower and of a richer color. "Loki?"

There was no answer and he got up and pulled on the clothing that lay piled on the floor at his feet. He went into the washroom – luxurious, this one, with the pool almost big enough for swimming, and instead of an earthenware pot there was a carved pit into which the stream could be diverted. He splashed some water onto his face and dried it on his sleeve before venturing back through the bedroom and into the hall. A line of guards stood outside and he went cautiously, but they made no move to stop him.

He was not surprised at his lack of guilt at what they had done together, but he was surprised at the fact of his unsurprise. Magic or no, Loki was not well, and yet their coming together had such an inevitability to it that it would have been like a magnet fretting over its ache for iron. His body needed Loki's like it needed water, like those apple trees strove for the sun. The orchard had been a perfect place for their first time, the air rich with nectar and the sunshine's warm caresses upon their skin. His own mystery was not yet solved, but the contentment that hummed through every nerve, the rightness in every pulse of blood, attested to his closeness and to the fact that Loki himself somehow held the answer.

He found Loki in the next room, a small one, more like the one Thor had been given. He had set aside his clothes and was just about to step into the water when Thor spoke. "Your bath seems much nicer."

Loki turned, beaming. "It is, but I didn't want to wake you."

"Yours is big enough to share."

"So it is." Loki slipped his arm around Thor's waist and they went back to his room, past the row of guards who appeared completely unfazed by Loki's nudity.

When he suggested a shared bath he hadn't really been thinking about the temperature of the water. Thor washed quickly and hopped out, sitting on a pile of rushes and hoping that his somewhat awkward pose was enough to hide one particular effect of the cold. Loki seemed utterly unaffected and splashed about like a seal, laughing when he saw he was making Thor smile.

"I want to do that again, what we did outside," Loki told him when he had climbed out. The water was streaming from his body and Thor wanted to lick it.

"We can do that, and there are other things you might like as well." Thor stood and picked Loki up, smiling at his shriek of excitement. Loki's skin was chilly and sleek against Thor's and he carried him to the fire to warm and dry them. There was a deep pile of rushes in front of it and he put Loki down on his back, settling to hands and knees above him.

Loki shifted and stretched, his body luxurious beneath Thor's eager lips. "You are so beautiful," Thor murmured as he traced a delicate clavicle with his kisses. He drew a thin line with the tip of his tongue back to the breastbone and licked his way down, savoring the rise and fall of Loki's ribs as his breath began to race. Loki gasped at the feel of Thor's tongue against his cock and his hands came to rest on Thor's shoulders, fingers tense with ardor. His cock tasted like the spring water, sweet and fresh, delicious to swallow it down.

"Thor," Loki stammered.

"Mmm?"

"I- I don't know. I like that."

" _Mmmm._ "

His hips moved in fits and starts, desperate and graceless. There was no performance to it, no sense that he was guided by anything but his own desire. After years of impersonal sex that seemed intended more for show than for pleasure it was a revelation. Unwilling to let it end too quickly he drew away. Loki whimpered and gazed down with confused and pleading eyes.

"I don't want to rush. Here, bend your knees for me," Thor urged, coaxing his legs up and sliding his hands beneath them to grasp the swell of narrow hips and curl them upwards. He couldn't reach as far back as he'd have liked, but he nosed at the velvety skin of Loki's sack and craned his head to lick beneath it.

"Ah! Ah, Thor..." Loki gasped.

He teased until Loki was making low and pleading moans before taking him into his mouth again. Loki didn't last long after that, shuddering through his climax while his fingers scrabbled at Thor's shoulders, his hair, before fisting into the rushes beneath them.

Loki was still shivering through the lingering throes when he whispered, "I want to do that to you, too."

"I won't complain," Thor chuckled.

They traded places, Loki's motions a little unsteady, but his smile was bright and confident as he settled down to work. There was some spluttering while he got the hang of it but even his first tentative licks were exquisite and his lack of experience was more than compensated by his clear delight.

It was only polite to give a warning when he was close. "Loki... _mmm,_ I'm about to spill, you might want to move away..." Loki fixed him with a look of pleased determination and tightened his lips and Thor came apart.

Loki made it through almost all of Thor's orgasm before running to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

"Sorry," Thor called weakly, raising his head to watch him go. "I tried to warn you about that. You do get used to it after a while..."

"It's alright," Loki answered. His voice echoed hollowly in the small bathroom. Thor's head fell back with a thump and he let himself relax and enjoy the tingling thrills still racing over his skin.

Loki returned, his face dripping water, and sat down beside Thor. He regarded him for so long and so seriously that Thor began to worry. Finally he spoke. "Do you want to know my last secret?"


	36. The Last Secret

Loki led Thor into a series of caves he was quite sure he hadn't seen before. The walls in these were smooth, polished almost to mirrors, completely unlike the areas where he had been before. They went downwards, narrow halls opening into cathedral-ceilinged chambers that tightened back into more small passageways. The ground became soft beneath their feet, almost spongy, and Thor sneezed.

Loki glanced back at him. "I'm sorry. I used to clean in here but then I forgot."

Thor lowered his torch to illuminate the floor.

Dust. They were walking on a layer of dust so deep it felt like moss. It was impossible that so much could have built up in the time since Loki came here to live. It had to have taken centuries, millennia even. His conscience flared, reminding him that whatever else Loki was, he was far from well, and perhaps it would be better not to encourage him in these thoughts. But already they had entered another room, so large as to dwarf those they had crossed before.

"What is it we're looking for?" Thor asked.

"It's a surprise. You'll understand when you see it why I wanted to keep it a secret. Oh, it's so good, you're going to like it so much..."

Loki was kicking at the dust with his feet, broad strokes that shoved it back and forth like deepening snowdrifts, sending flurries into the air until Thor was nearly choking on it. "It's in here somewhere, I know it," Loki said excitedly. "I stopped cleaning when I forgot but now I remember. I just have to find it."

"Do you think..." Thor broke off into a fit of coughing. "Do you think maybe we'd feel it under our feet if we walked around, rather than stirring it up like this?"

Loki shoved a pile to the side and regarded the depth of the dust layer. "I don't think so. It's not that big. That's the funniest part, it really isn't that big at all. You'll understand when you see it."

Thor resigned himself to a few days of sneezing and coughing fits, and set to helping with shoving the dust around. It would almost have been fun if only he could breathe better, the dust slicking the stone floor so that it felt like ice skating. "Do you like dancing?" he asked. Gliding seemed like it might not stir up the dust quite as much, and perhaps Loki would enjoy it.

Loki paused and looked up. "Do I like what?"

"Dancing. Here, I'll show you. Just follow my lead," Thor said, taking Loki's right hand in his left and wrapping his right around Loki's waist. Loki's left hand fluttered down to rest on Thor's shoulder and Thor began to waltz, murmuring the steps as he went. There were some stumbles at first but Loki caught on quickly and soon they were flitting about the room. Thor had only meant to dance for a minute or two but Loki was laughing in glee as Thor twirled him about and the dust was settling and so they waltzed on and on, turning this way and that about the room, and  when Loki put his head on Thor's shoulder, Thor pressed his lips to Loki's hair and smiled at the quiet sound it got him.

He was beginning to doubt his earlier decision to let things between the two of them go how they might. At first, Loki had seemed like a figure from a fairy tale, an almost supernatural being entirely outside everyday morality, an aid in solving the mystery in the book scraps. Now, though, Thor couldn't deny his growing feelings, and he had to face the fact that Loki was a man, just like him, and while he took a childlike delight in many things, in other ways it was clear that he was suffering. Some sort of mental illness, perhaps, or a head trauma inflicted in an accident like the one that brought Thor here; whatever the cause, he needed and deserved help. It would have to be Thor who saw to him getting it. He could charm Loki into taking him to the shore, where they could signal for rescue. Back in civilization Loki would get the help he needed and Thor would be there for him through every step, and when it was time, they would come back and find the answer together.

He hadn't known he was in love until he realized how little he cared about deferring his own aim in being here. That meant he _had_ to take Loki away from here because if he loved him, then right now, there was only one way to show it. He was just pondering how to persuade Loki to leave with him when he slid his foot back and it hit something hard.

"You found it," Loki whooped.

"I think so. I found something, anyway."

"That's all there is. Just the one thing. I remember this room very well now, it was completely empty except for the one thing."

They split apart and knelt, hands sweeping away the remaining dust.

It was a hammer. The blocky head was roughly the size of his own and the handle, wrapped in a spiral of dark brown leather, was about the length of his forearm.

"It doesn't look that big, does it? But it's impossible to pick it up. Just try it."

Thor looked at it. Even if it were solid metal, which he assumed it was, it couldn't have been much more than forty pounds, fifty at the very most. He did three times that amount one-handed all the time at the gym. He gave Loki a broad smile and curled his fingers around the grip.


	37. Mjolnir

Had the mountain collapsed upon them the force would have been easier to bear. Thor shuddered and gasped as the flashes from his dreams knitted together into a linear memory, the thousands of years he was a god, bringing storms and rain to the fertile fields and children to the fertile mortals, taking up his hammer to protect their humble lives or in defense of Asgard, laughing at his brother's jokes and finally a fight to the death with his brother's monstrous son. He remembered, too, the countless more lives he had lived since then, from the thoughtless existence of bacteria and then algae, hungry for the sun; his consciousness returning in timorous glimpses of the world from the view of a tiny scurrying animal and then the primate greed for sweet ripe fruit. His sense of self came much later and with it his personality through all those lives, the pride of being a mother and the joy of being a father, farmers and warriors and statesmen and artists, and in all of them a longing for the purpose he had lost when he fell.

The noise echoing through the cavern was Loki screaming. "This is your baby brother," said their mother when he tiptoed to her bedside. "His name is Loki."

"I can help look after him," Thor said. "I can help him when he cries."

He was on the floor, crawling towards Loki because he couldn't walk. "Loki," he said. He pulled Loki into his arms. "I found you. It's been so long but now I found you, I found you..." He held Loki to his chest and rocked and rocked until the worst of the desperation faded from their sobbing.

Loki buried his face in Thor's neck. "The instant I started it I wanted to take it back. You have to understand, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me-"

"Sssh, ssh, it's alright, it's okay," Thor soothed, squeezing him tight.

"It isn't! It can't be, only say you understand, say you forgive me even though it's not."

"I forgive you. Oh, Loki..."

"I waited for you. Even when it was so long I'd forgotten why, I waited for you."

Thor thought with horror of his beloved brother sitting there on the cold hewn throne, the world on fire beyond the cave, searing heat within, the planet cooling, life returning, and Loki waiting there all alone. How many billions of years had it been? Four, at the very least, he thought. Four billion years spent there, waiting in this barren home, cleaning the dust from Thor's fallen hammer until at last it had been so long that he forgot the need to do so.

"What made you come here, out of all the realms?"

Loki looked up at him bleakly. "Remember when father first took us into the woods? And he said, 'If you get lost, stay in one place, so I can find you.' And I thought... perhaps, even in another life, Mjolnir still might call to you. So that was the place I chose to stay."

"So this is where I fell." Thor looked around curiously. "My memory must still be playing tricks on me."

"It was different. There was... there was lava."

"You made all this?"

"She was so far beneath the rock, you'd never have found her. And it was something to do, carving this out. Some of the caves and halls are natural. That helped."

He pictured his lonely brother chipping away at the stone. Loki was powerful, but his skill had always been more in illusions, in false-seemings rather than physicalities. "It must have taken you..."

"A billion years, give or take. After a while you don't notice it passing anymore."

"Oh, Loki," Thor whispered into his hair.

Loki was still clinging to him desperately, and he felt like Thor's brother and he felt like Thor's lover and how they were going to reconcile those two things he didn't know. Loki must have felt it too. "What are we now? To each other?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't know," Thor confessed. "You feel like everything. I have my old feelings back but I still have all my new ones. Now that we've... I know how good you feel against me. Loki, I know how you _taste_ and you're my brother."

He was terrified Loki would shove him away, revolted, now that they were facing up to what they had done, but his grip only grew tighter. "You feel like everything, too."

"Then..."

"I do. Of course I do. All of those things are real and I want them all. I want us to be everything." Loki gave a laugh that was wet with the last of his tears.

"So do I. I want that and I want to take you home."

"We can, we can go home," Loki said. He stretched up to shower Thor's face with kisses. "We'll go rebuild Asgard together and one day they will all come home."

"Is there anything left to build upon? Oh!" He cried as a new horror struck him. "The orchards... how will we live?"

Loki put his hand to Thor's cheek with a sad, fond smile. "Just as I have lived. After I... oh, Thor! I slew Heimdall. He was your friend."

"And I killed your son."

"I was given little chance to become attached," Loki said.

Thor pressed his lips to Loki's palm. "All the worse."

Even Loki's shrug was heartbreaking. "After I slew Heimdall I gathered up all the apples I could and took them with me before Idunn's trees fell to the flames. I ate them as sparingly as I was able and I saved up all the pips until the earth was ready once more. Oh, they were old, so old by then I feared none would sprout. You can imagine my joy to see that one green sapling. I nurtured it and tended it and from its seeds I grew a new orchard."

"I see. So I've already begun," Thor murmured.

"And so you will continue," Loki said. They kissed again and then Loki took his hand. "Come. We must gather them up. The journey through Yggdrasil will be long and hard, but we will do it together, you and I, and so it will be well."

"First I must say goodbye to my family," Thor said gravely. "I am more in their debt than I can ever begin to say. Had they not raised me into the man I became, I could never have done all this. And Anne. I would never have found you without her aid and knowledge."

"Then let us go and say goodbye."


	38. Summoned

She knew the screaming almost before she knew herself. She could no more not run to him than she could have ignored his brave whimpers at a skinned knee when he was young. He must have escaped somehow, he must have slipped his chains and loosed his terrible sons and brought the twilight, but now it was a new day for the gods and he was still her little boy.

She made so many false turns, the caverns echoing back his screams from all directions. It was the quieter sound of their shared sobbing that finally led her to them. They knelt there together, Loki in Thor's embrace, Thor still caring for his brother just as he had promised her he would all those long ages past. She watched as they shared kisses, unbrotherly ones, ones that would have worried her before. They did not trouble her now.

The firelight danced in her unshed tears and swathed them both in haloes as they turned towards the door where she stood watching. Thor's cry of shock was nearly as heartbreaking as the one he had given when he saw her fall, arriving mere seconds too late to save her. Out of her countless deaths, that one still blazed brightest in her mind. She could still feel how her blood sang with joy at the chance to once again do battle. Oh, it had been so long since her blade had met flesh, slicing through her attacker's cheek with ecstatic ease. Her triumph in the face of his anger, smiling in the face of his futile rage, and then the blade cutting into her back, at first shocking and then numb.

She was still there inside her body when she was dropped to the floor, there to hear Thor's cry, his pain so much worse than her own. She lasted just long enough to feel Odin's grizzled beard against her face and then she was in Valhalla, drinking and laughing and content to wait until she saw them again. It had been Loki for whom she feared. Odin she knew would one day see striding through those golden doors, savior of Asgard one last time, his body once again strong and vibrant; Thor too would come, likely a victim of his determination to save the simple Midgardians from themselves. But Loki... there would be no battles for him while he wore Odin's chains, no final chance for glory and a seat in the eternal hall. He had no hope for anything better than a place in his grim daughter's gray halls, or else escape and the destruction of everything he had loved.

But now Loki was here, collapsing to the floor and trying to bury himself in her skirt, just as he had when he was young. She knelt and wrapped one arm around his trembling form, cradling his head as he sobbed into her shoulder. The other hand she held out to Thor, who was standing there staring as though frozen into marble. He gave another cry and clasped it as he fell beside his brother and she held them both, holding them in her arms.

"I was so lonely," Loki choked out. "I waited. I waited for you. Mother, I forgot who I was."

She kissed his head, trying not to notice that his hair smelled like dust. "I know, I know. It's over now," she whispered.

She made soft noises, rocking them both, soothing them into peace.

"I don't think I've had to do this since that night you two convinced yourselves there was an ogre in your nursery," she said at last.

That made them laugh. Damp and snuffling laughs, to be sure, but enough for them to sit up and look at her.

"You still have the same smile," Loki said.

Thor nodded. "You still... you're different, but you still look exactly like you." His fingers tightened on her arm. "That was the only time I saw you in the pub. If you hadn't been there when I started asking questions, how many more lives would it have been? Oh, if you hadn't been there..."

"Shh. I was there, and that's what matters. Perhaps the Norns watch over us, even now."

At the word _Norns_ Thor gave a wet laugh. "The Norns. I thought I had defeated them. I meant to take Loki from his cell just long enough to avenge you. He deserved that much, whatever else he had done. I thought he fell in noble battle and had gone to be with you. When he fell on that barren realm, I..." He turned to Loki. "I mourned you but I thought I had saved you, too. You and all the realms. I thought you were happy in Valhalla and the realms were safe from the twilight when all I did was hasten it."

He looked to be near tears again but Loki was shaking his head. "It would have come. It had to. And had you been other than you are, I don't think I could have waited."

"But you did wait," Thor said.

"And you found me."

She pulled them close again, unable to stop holding them, just like she had the first time they were new to her. "Prophecies do have a way of coming true. Loki could no more have stopped himself beginning it than you could have stopped yourself aiding him, both then and now," she murmured. "It's how we act in the freedom left to us that decides who we truly are." She kissed their heads once again and tugged them to their feet.


	39. Finding the Way

Loki led them back through the maze of tunnels to the throne room. Thor could see the resemblance now, the steps up to the dais the same as those of Hjlidskjalf, the roughly chipped decorations coalescing into knotwork in his mind. "I don't know what rooms you had," Loki told them.

"It's okay. I remember from here," Thor said.

"Are they going to hate me for taking you away?" Loki asked.

A shadow flickered across Loki's face. Thor had seen it too many times before and he slipped his hand into Loki's. "I don't know. I hope they'll understand."

They could hear Sita's raised voice as they drew near, the echoes distorting her words until they were almost at the door. "...I knew Thor was wrong to trust him, the moment we saw him I knew," she was saying, and then Thor turned the corner and came face to face with Sif.

Her eyes went right past him and fixed on Loki. " _You._ I told you what I would do if you betrayed him-"

Thor caught her waist as she charged past. This body was small compared to the one she had had when she had been his wife, shorter and less muscular, but she was no less fierce. "Wife. _Aunt._ Please, let us talk." He saw the resemblance now, just as he had in his mother. Sita had the same warm dark eyes he'd fallen in love with so long ago, the same steely determination to best lesser-minded men at their own game.

"There is much to talk about," Heimdall agreed, coming up behind her. His eyes flicked down to where Thor's hand still clasped Loki's. "For one, we seem to find ourselves in similarly strange positions. To be struck by the sudden awareness that one is enamored with one's sibling..."

"And so many other things, as well," Thor murmured. They had been so many things to each other, countless lives spent unknowingly drawn together, crawling towards each other in primeval pools, years spent striding across the savannas or climbing mountains in search of each other, other times born together into a single family, Thor being mother and father and son and daughter to all of them more times than he could count. It all fit now, the miracle that had drawn them from the far reaches of the earth to the same small New England town to form what had seemed a serendipitous family. And there were all the rest of their pantheon, as well, always seeking one another out. Thor had charged into battle with Tyr at his side more times than he could count; even Laufey, his erstwhile enemy, had grown dear to him over long ages. It was Loki alone who had been apart. "Can you see them?"

"I can," Heimdall answered simply. "Your father is a little Jotun girl, staring up at the stars and dreaming. Your three friends, my dear," he said, resting his hand on Sif's shoulder, "are a family of Vanir settlers."

"Do they know?" asked Frigga.

His lips curled faintly. "It's coming to them more slowly. I see a few glimpses of memory."

"Because of him. He ended _everything_ ," Sif said. She jerked loose from Thor's grasp and stood, glaring at Loki over Thor's outstretched arm.

"Well, at least they won't hate me for taking you away," Loki said behind him.

“Loki, please,” Thor said.

"If anyone's going to kill him, by rights it should be me. But it was inevitable. The shadows were falling long before he started it," Heimdall told her.

Sif had always had a trusting and uncomplicated love for her elder brother that had made Thor regard Heimdall with a silent envy when she had been his wife, but he was grateful for it now. Certainly no one else could have convinced her so easily of the inevitability of the twilight. "Alright," she allowed, grudgingly.

Frigga nodded. "And now it is a new day, and time for us to go home." She spoke with the same easy authority Thor remembered, as though she had never been anything but a queen.

"We must go to the orchard. Loki has tended the apple trees. I have eaten of them, but the rest of you must as well, and we will have to take all that we can carry," Thor said.

Sif made no more attempts at Loki, though she continued to shoot glares at him as they made their way through the caves to the orchard. The servants, poor, primitive creatures that they were, had been frightened away by the screams, but now they began to reappear. Loki gestured to them and they scurried off, returning with reed baskets.

"What do you intend for them?" Thor asked.

"Their bodies couldn't bear our journey," Loki said, looking them over. "Is the world kinder this time?"

"No. Not at all."

"Then I think it is best they remain here. Their numbers are dwindling. Better to leave them in peace for whatever time they have left."

Thor nodded and peered into the branches above them. "Does anyone see the ravens?" 

Frigga shook her head. "They've never truly followed any will but their own. They'll find us when they're ready."

After that Thor and Loki worked in silence, gathering apples while the others ate their fill before joining them in their task. "I think this is all we can take," Heimdall said once the baskets were threatening to overflow.

Loki cast an anguished look at the trees, their bows still heavy with golden fruit.

"We'll come back once we reach Bifrost," Thor told him gently. "And we'll replant the orchard at home."

Though Loki nodded, he looked no less fretful, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "I've cared for them so long. Even when I had forgotten myself, I remembered that they needed tending. I don't know how to leave them."

"They will be well," Frigga said. Her voice was warm and loving as when they were children and she coaxed them into the depths of her reflecting pool. She put her hand on Loki's arm and he gave a resolute nod before turning away. He didn't look back as he picked up his baskets and strode decisively into the caves.

"Do you know what he's doing?" Sif asked under her breath.

"No idea," Thor replied. He took up his own load and followed. Echoes of footsteps told him that the others were following, down, deep into chambers Thor had seen only once, lit now by seidr.

They came to a halt in one of the rooms with the markings on the walls. "I made a map," Loki said. "It's the way back to Yggdrasil. I started it when I realized I was beginning to forget. But it's so old..." He trailed off, his eyes intent on his work.

Thor came up and stood beside him. "Yes, I recognize this spot. That's one of the caves we were led through when we were brought here. See this archway? That's the one we came through, and the path to Yggdrasil goes through the other. And from that chamber the next pass is long and narrow."

"Yes, that shows me crawling," Loki said, his voice growing excited.

"And then we reach the next cavern and climb up to this opening that looks like a window."

"And that takes us to the next long tube. It's long. I remember, it's very long, and then..." Loki's voice trailed off as he moved along the wall, his finger following the path he had drawn until he came to a point where the wall swelled outwards into the room. Here the carbon had worn off with age and centuries of unthinking shoulders rubbing against it and he gave a cry that shattered Thor's heart. His eyes welled up as he continued, despairing. "It's lost. It was so long ago, and I followed it only once. I don't think I can find it now. All of this. All of it, _everything_ , it was all for nothing. I tried so hard…"

Thor drew him into a tight embrace. "It's alright. We'll go as far as the map leads us and then we'll explore. We have enough apples to last us centuries, we'll find the way. I promise, Loki. You've waited so long. I promise I'll take you home."

A sound behind them caught their attention and they turned. The seidrlight glinted against the gold flecks in Heimdall's eyes. "There's no need for us to wander. I know how to find Yggdrasil. I can see the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and for all the feedback! I really expected only a dozen or so people to be into this story. I know it was more of a leap of faith than most fics and I really appreciate you all taking it with me.


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